“I’m going to shower, then we can talk,” I say. “You want to join me?”
“I’ll have to put the same clothes on. But sure, that sounds nice.”
He pads after me to my bathroom. We’re both still naked, and I grab a couple towels, plus one to wipe myself off with.
He smirks. “That, uh, kinda does something to me,” he says.
“What’s that?”
He nods at my thighs. “Knowing that you have to, like, clean yourself up.” His face reddens.
“You like it dripping down my thighs? Is that what you’re trying to say?”
He laughs. “Well, when you put it that way. Yeah. It’s like . . . it makes me feel like a troglodyte. Like you’re mine in some way, even though intellectually I know that’s not a very evolved thing to feel.”
I shrug as I turn the shower on. His eyes scan me, like he’s still enjoying the view, like he could go again. “It’s okay. I know you aren’t some caveman.” I smile. “You’re an ortho doc, though. Is there a difference?”
“Ha. Haven’t heard that one before.”
He follows me into the shower. We stand under the spray, and I gesture for him to turn around. I pour some shampoo into my palm so I can soap up his hair.
“Is this okay?” I massage my fingers into his scalp.
“God, yes.” He dips his head.
With the warm water trailing down my back and the way Grant melts under my touch, in this intimate cocoon together, my reservations seem silly. I want him. I care about him. I’m sinking further into my feelings for him, and this steam is addling my brain, making me even foggier.
“I think hot water might be the best human achievement,” I say.
He turns his head to grin at me. Soapy lather snakes down his cheeks, and he closes one eye. “I’m sure I’m supposed to say that the greatest invention is antibiotics or something like that, since I’m physician.” He trades places with me so he can rinse his hair out. “But I think you might be right.”
“That’s an interesting discussion. There are lots of directions you could go with that.”
Grant takes the shampoo bottle from me. “Can I return the favor?”
I nod. He squeezes shampoo into his hand and starts tolather up my own hair. The pressure from his fingers and the hot mist is so relaxing I could melt into a puddle. I must make a noise, because Grant steps into me, and his movements become more vigorous.
“I think you gotta go with the wheel, right?” His breath skims my ear.
“Are we back on inventions again?”
“I feel like there should be a right answer,” he says.
I shrug. “There are too many candidates for that, depending on how far back you go. Writing. Electricity. Birth control. Toilet paper. Beer. The internet.”
He laughs. “That last one’s debatable.”
I step back so I can rinse off, and we trade places again. There’s a bit of awkward shuffling.
“Pardon me, ma’am,” Grant says.
“He has even more jokes.” I pull my favorite body wash from the shower caddy. “I always wondered where you’d buried your sense of humor. By the way, this stuff is pricey. I might have to let you use the cheap stuff.”
Grant swipes the bottle from me. “I have delicate skin, thanks.” He soaps up a loofah for me and motions for me to spin around so he can wash my back.
“Do you?” The first brush of the loofah against my skin brings an actual moan to my lips.
“I use the cheapest bar of soap I can find, actually. I’m not fussy.”
