On the front of Alex’s thin, light gray cotton pants is a dark, unmistakable spot, right where the tip of him is still pressed.
My eyes widen, and I reach for him. He’s as human as he is impossible, and somehow, I like him even more for it.
He braces his hands on his thighs, dropping his head between his shoulders. “I swear, this is not a problem I’ve ever had before,” he mutters. “It’s just… been a while.”
He lifts his gaze to meet mine, the look almost pleading, and I cave immediately, moving toward him.
I cup his face in both hands, then kiss him sweetly on the lips. He tastes like me, and him, and every bit of trust that’s growing between us.
I can’t get enough, so I do it again.
“It’s okay, really.” I nudge his nose with mine. “But you know what this means, right?”
He gives me a wary look. “What does this mean?”
“This means you definitely, absolutely, totally like me and can’t pretend otherwise anymore.”
I beam at him, his shoulders relax, and then we’re both laughing, because this was definitely not on either of our bingo cards for today.
“I’m going to go get cleaned up. And, you know… change my pants,” Alex grumbles, scrubbing both hands over his face.
I smile to myself, nodding, and press my lips together. They’re warm and swollen in that just-kissed way that makes my heart jump.
As Alex slips into the adjoining bathroom, he leaves the door ajar. Which I take as an invitation because I also need to clean up after baking all day and, well… after what we just did.
I don’t bother with the clothes on the floor. I just head into the bathroom, where Alex is at the sink, his hands gripping the waistband of his pants. His surprised expression meets mine in the mirror.
I trail my fingers across his back as I slide past him toward the shower. With my back to him, I pull my shirt off over my head, then toss it in his direction before turning the water on and stepping inside.
A mumbled, “Fuck me,” reaches my ears as I slide the glass door shut behind me. Through the textured glass, I see Alex’s silhouette—still, watching—with my shirt draped over one shoulder.
His shower is immaculate. Organized in a way I could never achieve. A neat row of dark amber bottles with cream labels in… French, maybe?
I pick one up, carefully unscrewing the lid, and inhale deeply. Spiced bourbon. Oaked vanilla. Perfectly Alex.
The consistency makes it clear that it’s body wash, and I can’t resist pouring some into my hands, working it into a rich lather and smoothing it over my skin.
As I angle my face under the stream of water, eyes closed, I hear the glass door slide open.
Warm hands travel up my arms, settling between my shoulders where strong thumbs begin working out the tension that’s taken up residence over the past few weeks.
I groan, tilting my head to the side to give him better access to the tight muscle at the base of my neck. Alex obliges immediately, focusing on exactly where I need him.
After a few minutes, I turn to face him and inhale a sharp breath as I take him in.
Water slides over him, tracing the lines of muscle as he moves. His chest is solid, defined with a light dusting of hair, his breath rising and falling in a way I can’t ignore. When he reaches for one of the bottles, his stomach tightens, the movement revealing a quiet strength as his body flexes around mine. Not model-perfect—thank God.
He obviously takes care of himself. But he also lives in his body, not denying himself the things he enjoys. He’s real and that makes him completely devastating.
His hands find my hair, guiding my head under the water, snapping me out of my thoughts. His knowing smirk makes my cheeks heat.Busted.
“You know,” he starts, voice low, pouring shampoo into his hands before working it into my hair. “I could get used to this. And I really fucking love that you’ll be walking around all day tomorrow smelling like me.”
His lips find mine in a sweet kiss that contrasts the hunger that existed before. My eyes flutter closed as his hands continue their careful work.
We don’t rush the shower, taking our time as we wash each other, kissing under the water as steam gathers around us.
When my fingers are wrinkled and my skin is flushed, Alex finally leads me out. He wraps me in a fluffy white towel, drying me off before pulling one of his T-shirts over my head.
