“Strategically covered by the bubbles, thanks.”
He nods toward the pile of my discarded clothes on the floor. “May I?”
“Yes, please. It’s just there in my jeans pocket.”
And my jeans just happen to be right underneath my panties. Because of course they are.
He handles the situation like a pro, even though his cheeks are also a little flushed by the time he fishes the phone from my pocket and hands it over to me.
“Thank you so much,” I say, swiping to silence the offending alarm. “I’m sorry I had to bother you for that.”
“No bother at all. I was just…”
His voice trails off, but he doesn’t look away. I’m not sure whether I should say something else or dunk my head underneath the water until he leaves, but the moment is too perfect, too electric for me to do anything but hold his gaze.
“I’ll let you get back to your bath,” he says after what feels like four or five solid minutes of silently looking at each other. His voice is deeper than normal and a little scratchy.
“Okay,” I nod, barely able to find my own voice.
Another second passes, then another before he turns to go. I don’t know what makes me reach for him, but I catch his hand just before he’s out of reach and pull him back toward the tub until he’s towering over me.
I only have to give his hand a gentle tug to bring him down toward me, and he takes over from there. His lips are on mine in an instant, surprisingly gentle but still possessive enough to make me whimper into his mouth.
He deepens the kiss, his tongue entwining with mine as he reaches for my chin and tilts my head farther back.
Just like with everything else, he seems to instinctively know what I need. He doesn’t try to move too fast or push past my comfort zone. But I can still feel the strength he’s holding back and the power coiled in those muscular shoulders when I reach out with a soapy hand to steady myself.
The kiss has electrified every part of my body, making every nerve ending from my head down to my toes come alive. We’re both breathing harder when we finally break apart, and I can see that his pupils are blown with desire when I look into his eyes.
There’s a hint of a smile at the corners of his mouth as he slowly stands back up in front of me. “Enjoy your bath,” is all he says before he walks back across the bathroom and slowly closes the door behind him.
My heart is pounding so loudly in my chest that I can hardly hear anything else as I sink back into the water.
God, what did I just do?
Chapter 12
Grant
My eyes open three minutes before my alarm is scheduled to go off. I was two minutes early yesterday, and four minutes the day before. I haven’t actually needed an alarm clock to wake me up since I was in high school, but I still set it just in case.
I push myself up out of bed and pull on a t-shirt and shorts, my muscle memory guiding me through these first parts of my morning routine when my eyes are still heavy and I’d rather be right back under the covers.
I’ve never really been a morning person, but I wake up early because that’s what the schedule says to do. The schedule that’s been tailored to my body, my exercise needs, my caloric intake for years until it’s become a perfectly regimented fact of life.
This schedule, this routine makes me better on the ice. That’s why I follow it without questioning or complaining, even when I’d rather be doing something else.
By the time I get to the bathroom scale to weigh myself, my eyes are finally open enough to see the numbers.
Almost exactly the same as yesterday. Right where I need to be.
The blood pressure cuff is next. One-twelve over seventy-two. Perfect.
Meal prep is next, and it’s as precise as everything else in my life. Breakfast is usually a protein shake, and I’ve let myself become spoiled with a chef who comes in once a week to make my dinners, but lunch is still my responsibility.
Keeping that prep for myself lets me feel like I’m maintaining control over my diet, even if it’s mostly a symbolic thing these days.
I line up seven identical glass containers on the counter, then portion the lean protein to the gram. Complex carbs get measured to the ounce, and vegetables are chopped with mathematical precision.
