He lets himself rest against the back of the tub, one arm rests along the rim and he rubs his forehead with the other. “Okay, okay, I’m finished.”
“Finished laughing at me?” he says with a smirk. “Or finished your hysterics?”
“Both,” I blurt. “I mean, I wasn’t laughingatyou!”
I bury my head in my hands, still chuckling, and knowing he isn’t really mad with me. This is what I love. The playfulness between us, which comes so naturally, and makes the air around me feel lighter. I scoot forward a little more, allowing me enough room to turn and face Denham.
I turn carefully, and it doesn’t hurt my ribs as much as I thought it might have which reinforces that I’m just bruised, and it’ll only take a few days to heal. When I’ve turned around fully, I look up. Denham’s hand is outstretched just in front of my face at eye level. He has his palm full of bubbles, and his head dipped with a wicked gleam in his eye. I don’t have any time to react as it takes me a couple of seconds to take it in. He blows hard and the bubbles cover my face, making me jump and squeal. I push my hands into the deep water in front of me to move backwards fast, but all it does is create a wave of water, which hits Denham’s chest and splashes up into his face. He gasps and when his eyes meet mine he raises a brow and grins. He leans forward ever so slowly, his hands rest on the bottom of the bath and he pushes himself up onto his feet so he’s crouching like an animal that’s about to stalk his prey. My eyes widen, locked with his. My breath hitches. His body is covered in a layer of silky bubbles and all of a sudden there’s a familiar crackle in the air, and it’s not so playful anymore. It’s carnal.
He settles his knees on either side of my thighs, trapping me underneath him, and his eyes don’t leave mine the whole time he’s moving.
As his chest moves forward, I move back as far as the tub will allow until I have my back pressed to the marble, and Denham has his chest pressed to mine.
His head dips, and he kisses a path from my neck, along my collarbone.
“Now that I have you all soapy and wet in the tub, what am I going to do with you?” Denham whispers into my skin.
He trails his fingers from my shoulder, down my chest and pushes the bubbles aside that have clung to my skin and I let my head fall back and rest on the edge of the rolled top of the tub. He brushes his fingertips slowly over my bruised ribs, then inhales a sharp intake of breath. “Fuck…Ari…”
I snap my head up to look at him, as his whole face changes from turned on to worried.
“What?” I ask, confused.
“Your ribs…Look at your fucking ribs,” he says scraping his wet hands through his hair.
I glance down and sure enough, there’s a deep, vicious looking bruise the size of my hand, spanning the side of my ribs. I knew they were sore but until now I hadn’t even thought to look at my bare skin.
Denham gets to his feet and gets out of the tub. He wraps a towel around his waist and although I don’t miss his obvious erection, he ignores my glances.
“Hey, where are you going?” I call out to him.
“I’m getting out, I’ll wait right here until you’re out, then I need to get back and get dressed,” he says, muttering more to himself with a deep frown marring his face.
“Denham.”
“I won’t be far, just shout when you’re done.”
“Denham,” I say, more forcefully this time and he looks up at me. “I’m not broken.”
He glances down, staring at a spot on the floor, anywhere but me. When he looks up and catches my eye he sighs, “No, Ari. But you are bruised.”
“Then be gentle with me,” I answer seductively.
“Ari …” he warns.
“What? You can’t be gentle?”
“I’m worried I’ll hurt you,” he says softly.
“I know you won’t,” I answer him with the utmost certainty.
His eyes roam my body, lingering on every curve that he can see above the water. His exploration stops at my ribs and he frowns.
I dip my palm into the water, and scoop up a handful of bubbles. I gently smear them across my skin, covering the bruising in the hope that if he can’t see it, he’ll at least be able to push back the feeling that I’m damaged, even just for a short while. As I move my hand, my fingers skim my nipple and it hardens underneath the soft white bubbles that are left behind.
“Are you purposefully making it difficult for me to say no to you, Ari?”
“Yes,” I answer simply. “I want you, and if you say no to me, well…I may be a while longer in here than it takes to wash my hair.”
