He shook his head. “It’s fine.” He removed his pants and briefs.
Fine. What was fine? Nailing me to the wall or unprotected sex? There was nothing awkward about that moment. The pathetic part was he had me so turned on again, standing there naked.
I closed my eyes and tried to do the impossible: clear my mind. I heard the shower and a few seconds later Cage groaned. He was in pain. I was a greedy little hussy. On a deep breath I slid under the water. I loved dull white noise that could only be experienced under water, like holding my breath stopped time, even if just for a few seconds.
“Ah!” I gasped as Cage pulled me from my abyss.
“Jesus, Lake!” He stood over me dripping cold water, eyes wide.
“What?” I coughed. Startled by unexpected hands gripping my arms, I inhaled a little water on the way up.
“You weren’t moving.”
I coughed a little more, clearing the last of the water from my windpipe. “That’s because I was holding still.”
He released my arms and stepped in the tub, wedging his cold body behind mine as he exhaled a heavy sigh.
“Why are you so cold?”
“Cold shower. Muscle recovery.”
I leaned my back against his chest as he wrapped his arms around me. He was like a gigantic ice cube stealing the heat from my water.
“I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“What were you doing?” His voice still held an edge ofanger or maybe just concern.
“I was wetting my hair.”
“For like… five minutes?”
I laughed. “No, for like ten seconds.”
“Lake… we need to talk.” His large hands covered mine, interlacing our fingers.
Even in the water I could feel the hard calloused patches on his fingers and palms. “About?”
“Everything.”
I braced for the same lecture I’d already given myself a hundred times over since the incident in the kitchen. The fact that I thought of it as an “incident” just proved that we needed to discuss it.
“I have this love/hate relationship with my feelings about you.”
“Oh God… you’re breaking up with me.” I tried to sit up as my heart braced for impact.
Cage tightened his hold on me. “What? No. No. Why would you think that?”
“Because people have a ‘love/hate relationship’ with things they feel guilty about, and guilt is the equivalent of a flesh-eating bacteria for emotions.”
“I regret nothing. Not even calling your bluff in the most dog-pissing-on-a-fire-hydrant way.”
“Calling my bluff?” I knew. I just wanted him to say it. I was such a coward.
He kissed the top of my head. “I want to know more than your neighbors, Lake. If you’re going to marry me, then I want to know before Banks.”
“It was a jok—” I jumped as he bit the back of my ear.
“It wasn’t a joke. Not wanting to marry me…thatwas ajoke.”
