His mouth opens like he wants to argue, but I shush him with a look, and instead of words, he just huffs.
The antique clawfoot tub was my favorite part of living here. I’ve never seen anything like it, and I caught myself staring at how it gleams under the low lights every time I sank into it.
I twist the faucets, the sound of rushing water filling the room as fast as the corkscrewing steam. Koby leans against the doorframe, still as a statue, eyebrows drawn together.
“Get in,” I tell him.
“You first.”
“No, just you.”
“I’m not sitting in there alone.” He pushes off the frame, stalking closer. “Either you’re coming with me or forget it.”
“You need this.You.” I jab my finger into his chest for emphasis. “Don’t make me wrestle you into the water.”
“You can try.”
“You’re such a child,” I huff, shaking my head.
“Maybe. But I won’t relax if you’re not there with me.”
“You can’t relax at all.” I grab the front of his shirt, yank him forward, and start working the buttons.
He catches my wrists, eyes flicking from the tub to my face. “I can undress myself, you know?”
“But you won’t because you’re too busy sulking.”
“You don’t get it. I’m supposed to be doing things for you. I’m supposed to—”
“Enough.” I tear my hands out of his grasp and pop another button. “What you’re supposed to do is keep your head screwed on straight for the next twenty-four hours, but you’re not far from losing it.”
He exhales, a short, frustrated breath. “This isn’t fair, Leilani. If I tried to do this for you, you’d freak out and beat me up.”
“And you’d get hard.” I shrug, shoving the shirt off his shoulders, letting it slide down his arms. “Step out of your pants.”
He hesitates for a beat longer, then finally unbuckles his belt, strips off his pants, and lowers himself into the water.
The groan that escapes him is completely at odds with his pouting jaw.
“Better?” I ask, kneeling beside the tub.
“Not yet. You’re still not in here.”
I grab the shower gel, squeeze some into my palm, and set my hands on his shoulders, working the suds into his skin. He jerks slightly, muscles twitching under my touch.
“This isn’t fair,” he mutters. “I should be doing this for you.”
“Shut up.” I dig my thumbs deep into the knots along his spine.
“Fuck... that feels good.” His head tips forward, dark hair falling into his eyes. “And wrong to let you take care of me.”
“Feels right to me.” I press harder into the muscles along his neck until he hisses and his shoulders sag.
“You’re really won’t get in?”
I roll my eyes, even though he can’t see it. “Maybe later.”
“Leilani...” His voice cracks a little, soft in a way that pokes right at my chest. “Get in here. Please.”
