This was why I needed two functional arms. One to hold her hand to my chest, another to hold her close to me. To keep her. And fuck me if that made any sense. "As you've mentioned, I'm moody."
"I'm not going to be a casualty of your moods," she replied. "You can't try to get rid of me one minute and then—"
"Listen to me, Zelda." I shifted my hand to tip her face up, meeting her gaze. "I'm temperamental as fuck and you're more than comfortable calling me on that shit. None of that is changing any time soon. But here's what I know for sure. I need you to put my office in order because it's a hot mess right now. I need you to do your bizarre little Mary Poppins thing where you smile, blink, and fix my whole life. But I'm not having you shuffling from one futon to another in Allston or Brighton or some other collegiate crime den when there's a perfectly good bedroom for you right here."
Without missing a beat, she said, "And you'd like me to help you into the shower as well."
Yes.Yeswas the answer, the only answer. I wanted her in my bed, my head on her shoulder, and yes, the shower. All those places where I could simplybe.
But— "I needed you to get me out of that sling. I would've dislocated the other shoulder trying to do it by myself. I'm sure I can manage the rest on my own."
She closed her eyes as a knowing smile pulled at her lips. It looked like she was holding back a laugh. "Collegiate crime den," she muttered. "What…what does that even mean?"
"You know damn well what it means," I replied. I had no idea what I'd intended with that.
She took a step back, turned in a circle like she didn't know where she was, and power walked into the kitchen. I tipped my head to the side, watching her hips sway in those vintage jeans. I realized then I'd missed a critical amount of Zelda's assets in yesterday's audit. I'd spent the flight focused on that streak of blue hair, the ink on her skin, her mismatched eyes. At no point had this perky backside figured into my assessment.
Another reason I needed two functional arms: grabbing this woman's ass hard enough to leave marks. Now, that was a new urge.
"Just log me into your email and I'll figure the rest out myself. Unless, of course, you don't want me in your email. Which is also fine. I can start with your calendar. Are you a Google Calendar kind of kid or are you all iCal? While many things about you do scream 'Outlook!' I doubt that's your preference. Right? Where are you at with this, Ashville?" When she turned, my laptop bag in hand, she tracked my gaze to her backside. "Yes?" she asked, laughing.
"Do you have, you know"—still staring, I scratched the back of my neck—"office clothes?"
"Sure do," she replied. "Should I change now? Is that the ludicrous thing you need at this moment?"
Goddamn, I wanted to rub my face against that ass and I knew I'd never in my life thought that before. Not a single time ever had I wanted anything like that.
"Nope," I answered, moving toward her. I grabbed my laptop from the bag, opened it, and banged out my password. "All yours. Email is open." I backed away, moving toward my bedroom. "Go ahead and remove those job postings, if you don't mind."
She glanced up from the screen, her lips parted. "You don't want to leave them open? In case—"
"The position is filled," I said, closing the bedroom door behind me.
I marched into the adjoining bathroom and flipped on the shower. Stripping while the room filled with steam, I realized another reason I required the use of both hands: one to flatten against the shower wall while I jerked off.
* * *
Before stepping into the shower,I hadn't given much thought to erections. I mean, I'd thought about them in the sense I noticed when my dick was hard and when it wasn't. But I'd never contemplated the erections I'd racked up in my life. Certainly never compared them.
There was no need to compare them, not when my dick was as predictable as the rest of my life. Most of the time, I was good for a respectable length and girth that jutted straight out. If you didn't have a protractor, you could use my shaft to find a right angle.
But this—the monster throbbing against my belly button—more closely resembled a flexing forearm than any erection I'd ever experienced. It was a personal best. I was going to remember this one.
Another thing I was going to remember? The amount of rueful regret I felt over using my hand on an erection of this quality. It deserved better than a shower jerk-off. If I could've swapped out this one the way I swapped good ties with better ties when I had important meetings, that would've been amazing. Put this one in the back of the closet on a special hanger and save it for a long night, a soft bed, a warm, wet woman who felt like joy and looked like a miscalculation, one with a half dozen earrings and stripes of blue hair and—
"Oh my fucking god," I choked.
Heat blasted through me like an electrocution. Honestly, this fucking hurt. My spine arched, my abs trembled, my arm burned as if I'd done more than take my cock in hand. I couldn't see anything, couldn't hear anything. The only sense at my disposal was feel and the only thing I could feel was my blood hammering in my veins. The water pounded my skin and my breath rasped out of me and my entire body shuddered as my orgasm painted the tiles.
Since I was now in the business of comparison, I couldn't help but note I hadn't come like a cannon blast…ever. I stared at the streaks on the shower wall as I panted, my chest still heaving. I'd never done this before. I was always so careful about coming in my hand or angling toward the drain.
I'd never done any of this before.
"Ash? Ash! What happened? Are you all right?"
The door flew open and bounced off the wall and the force sent it slamming back in Zelda's face. It would've been funny if it hadn't made my balls hum and my cock spurt once more. She pushed it open again, this time keeping a hand locked on the handle.
"I heard a crash," she said, her eyes wide and alarmed. "Are you okay? What happened?"
