It makes me a little jealous, if I’m being honest. My bath doesn’t have one of these, and I can’t think of a better way to end a stressful day than a showerhead-induced orgasm surrounded by bubbles.
I start rubbing the shampoo into his head, my fingertips massaging his scalp, and Cooper moans. It’s not a small one, either. It’s toe-curling. A shiver runs down my spine, and I pause, but when he doesn’t say anything, I continue.
When his hair is clean, I find his body wash and lather his net sponge with it.
This is going to be the hardest part.
I start with his shoulders, scrubbing them until his skin is a little red, then continue down one arm.
His giant, muscular arms that could probably crack me open like a watermelon.
His beautiful arms, one of which is covered in tattoos. I use my fingers for this, not wanting to mess with their healing. I kind of want to ask him why he’s been so impulsive.
The second I’m done, I scoot away. “Well, I think you can get the rest with one hand, alright?” I say with a clap of my hands.
He looks down. “I think so?”
Cooper moves a few inches, his torso breaking the surface.
“What’s that?” I ask, pointing to his ribs.
He immediately falls back down into the water. “What?”
“The tattoo on your side.”
He looks spooked. “Nothing.”
My eyes narrow. “What are your tattoos, anyway?”
Cooper looks down at his arms, his hair, nearly black when wet, falling into his eyes. “I love the ocean. And we never had a lighthouse, but I wish we did.”
It’s true. Dewey Beach has zero lighthouses, while Rehoboth only has a replica located in the middle of a traffic circle. But even the original isn’t exactly the usual lighthouse you’d see tattooed on someone’s body.
One of the nearest large lighthouses is in Cape May, but that’s an hour and a half away by ferry or an over three-hour drive, and none of the locals are interested in doing that.
“So it’s just a random lighthouse?”
I can see the wheels turning in his brain as he looks at me. “I don’t know, Amara. I just like the symbolism.”
I decide to let it be. “Do you have other tattoos?”
He immediately knows what I’m doing. “Nope.”
Instead of arguing, I bite my tongue. If he doesn’t want to tell me, he doesn’t want to tell me. I’m just going to assume it’s something really stupid that he got while drunk, and he’s super embarrassed about it.
I leave him be, finding a home on his bed with Fluffernutter to make sure he doesn’t need me.
A few minutes later, the door opens, and I’m just grateful he has a towel around his waist.
Looking surprised that I’m still here, Cooper keeps his arm at his side. It’s not until he gets into his closet that I catch a glimpse.
I watch from the bed as he reaches for a new shirt, thetattoos on his arms distracting me for the millionth time, when I see it again. The dark lettering on his ribcage. Earlier, when he was in the bathtub, I could have sworn it looked familiar. I just wish he would tell me what it was, instead of trying so hard to hide it.
His shirt is on before I can dissect it further.
CHAPTER 33
COOPER
