Her last words land like bricks on my chest.Ain’t that the damn truth.
I wait for her to continue, but the silence stretches uncomfortably until she looks away. She’s been hurt. It’s clear she has, and I wish she would trust me with her secrets. That she didn’t feel the need to carry them alone. But when she doesn’t offer more, I ask another question.
“So, you get to live vicariously through the characters of the books?”
“Exactly.”
“And you read a lot.” I reach for her hand and thread her fingers through mine. “So you get hundreds of lifetimes.”
“Thousands, if I’m lucky.” She squeezes my hand and that euphoric feeling that only occurs when we’re together takes over my brain. This is more than fucking. This is more than simple affection. She must feel it too, because she doesn’t pull away.
She likes me.Hell, she might more than like me. She might not say the words, but she doesn’t have to. I feel them anyway.
I pull our interlocked hands toward my mouth and press tender kisses along her knuckles. I’m exhausted, but I’m not ready for the day to be over.
“I have an idea.”
“Does it involve clothes?”
“No, in fact it does not.”
Her eyes twinkle as they meet mine.
“I like the sound of that.”
19
ROSALIE
Jackson leadsme to the bathroom where we trade smiles as he starts the water in his walk-in shower. I’m not a huge fan of shower sex—or, at least, outside of books. In real life, someone is freezing while the other enjoys the warm spray of water. Plus, the slippery floor is a hazard. I don’t say any of this, though, because when Jackson tugs me under the shower head with him, it’s not to make out.
He reaches over to the loofa—my loofa—and pours a bit of my shower gel onto it before grabbing my hand. Starting at my wrist, he scrubs his way up my arm, then across my shoulders to the other arm. He washes my entire body, and while his movements aren’t sexual, they’re more intimate than I expect.
“Want me to do you next?” I ask, my gaze following the water as it sluices down his perfectly defined body.
His chuckles wash over me as he turns my body so my back is to his front.
“No, this shower is all about you.”
“I don’t hate the sound of that,” I quip back.
“Good.” He brushes my hair back and presses his mouth against my neck. I arch into his body and his half-hard cock bobs into my ass.I expect him to continue kissing and rubbing against me, but instead he pulls back and reaches for my shampoo on the shelf. “Tip your head back,” he commands softly.
I’ve never had my hair washed by a partner. I’m so stunned, I can’t speak. He didn’t read this in a book—at least not the ones I’ve given him.
His fingers dig into my scalp, massaging my head as the friction creates suds. After he rinses them away, he moves me out of the spray to work conditioner into my locks.
“It needs to set a few minutes,” I say before he can pull me back under the shower head.
“I know.”
He winks, then proceeds to put on a fucking show washing himself. Every molecule of my body is on full alert as his hands travel over every muscled inch of his skin. My breath catches in my chest as I hastily memorize this Adonis before me. Does he know what he’s doing? He must, because when he’s done and his gaze lifts to mine, it’s accompanied by one of his wicked smiles.
“Come here.” He tugs me back under the spray with him, this time facing me. He captures my mouth with his. He brushes his lips against mine, gently at first, but when I part my lips and his tongue meets mine, our kiss becomes hotter than the water. I hold on to him, my hands greedy as my lips crash against his.
His tongue plunges into my mouth and his hands wrap around my backside, his fingers digging into my flesh so hard, I’ll probably have bruises tomorrow. If this is a game, I don’t know who is winning. It doesn’t even matter because my entire body is on fire, and he’s the only one who can offer relief.
He pulls away, his chest heaving and lips swollen. His lips turn up with his grin.
