“I need conditioner,” I said against his chest when he’d finished.
“Youneedconditioner?” he teased, but he ran it through my strands, lovingly working out the tangles. I still didn’t move when he washed his own hair. My eyes squeezed shut as the suds slithered down his skin and onto my face.
When he shut off the water, I let him go reluctantly. He wrapped a large white towel around his waist and held another open for me.
I prefer his skin,I thought, but let him envelop me in it.
He ran his hands over my covered shoulders to warm me and moved my hair from my face. “We should get your hair dry.”
“It’s all right,” I said and yawned. “I’m tired.”
“You can’t sleep with wet hair.”
“It’ll dry before I get home,” I reassured him.
His face fell, and he stepped back with my shoulders still firmly in his hands. “You’re going home?”
“Well, yes, I have to. I can get a cab.”
“Isn’t Bill . . .?” His mouth distorted as though he’d bitten into a lemon. “Isn’t he out of town?”
I glanced away. “He’ll be back sometime tomorrow.”
“Well,” David said and exhaled an irritated laugh, “if you think I’m letting you go home alone at this time of night, then you’d better think again.”
I furrowed my brows and turned back to him. “I’m not a child. I can get myself back in one piece.”
He raised an eyebrow at me. “If you must go, I’ll drive you.”
I shifted on my feet, weighing my options. I was so sleepy, and David was so warm and comfortable . . .
Guilt and desire constantly battled inside me, overcoming one another, tormenting me in the process.
“Come on,” he said with a sigh. “One step at a time.” He pulled a hair dryer from a drawer and motioned me over. I stood in front of him, tilting my head upward as he raked a hand through my hair. “Just tell me if I hurt you.”
His eyebrows dipped as he concentrated, careful not to pull while he detangled my hair. It made me smile to think that he’d just been pulling it much harder without a second thought. And I’d loved the uninhibited rawness of it.
“Keep smiling like that, and I might have to bend you over this sink.” He gave my hair a playful tug when I widened my eyes. I rewrapped the towel under my arms and took the rare moment to appreciate the man in front of me. The shampoo made him smell fresh like early morning. His pecs flexed in unison with his biceps as his arms moved over me. I admired the lines of the square jaw just inches above my head that gave way to a long neck and sprawling, muscled shoulders . . .
I quivered and ducked backward, hoisting myself onto the counter. I wrapped my legs around him and pulled him to the sink. “Your turn,” I said, taking the hairdryer.
He inhaled appreciatively when I stuck my fingers in his hair, which was really only damp. He kissed my nose.
“Now, now,” I scolded. “Don’t distract me. I take blow jobs very seriously. No one goes to bed with wet hair tonight.”
He laughed with his whole body, and I secured him closer, locking my feet against his lower back. We were level now, and his eyes watched me closely; I could feel them even though I kept my focus on his silken hair. Once I’d finished, I set the blow dryer on the sink and styled his hair away from his eyes. My own hair was messy, but it didn’t matter. How could it be bad when he’d fixed it himself?
He pulled on my towel so it fell open. His eyes closed, and he leaned in to inhale deeply, as if committing my smell to memory. He placed a kiss on the underside of my jaw. Curious hands explored me, touching wherever he could reach. I flinched when he passed over my scar.
His eyes dropped to my lap, and he gripped my thighs. “You taste so good,” he uttered, licking his lips. He pulled me in for a hug, and his finger trailed goose bumps down my spine. “Did you eat tonight?”
“Hmm?”
“Did you eat? Aren’t you hungry?”
“I’m fine.” I sighed into his neck. “And I should go. It’s late.”
He stepped away, and I shivered instantly. My face distorted as I looked at him. “I’m so cold without you.”
