“It’s on the very top,” he says, kissing my belly button, “of the list of the best things about you.” Slowly, Will stands, his hands moving from my waist to thumb at my breasts. “Go start the shower.”
In a daze, I pull open the glass door and turn the handle. Through the slowly fogging window, I watch as Will rids himself of his clothes. Then as he grabs a foil package from his pants pocket, rips it open, slides the condom on. He locks eyes with me and walks toward the shower door, stepping through, closing it behind him.
Heavy, wet air hangs between us, blurring the lines of his body. I want to look down, to see all of him, but I can’t take my eyes off Will’s as he catches my waist and walks us both underneath the warm spray.
For a minute we just stand there, almost hugging—if a hug included the slide of someone’s naked body against yours in a way that feels addictive. We listen to the sound of each other’s breathing even out.
Will’s lips trace the rim of my ear. “Is your body ready now?”
Already, I’m geared up again. I try to say yes but don’t quite manage it. Instead, a series of noises that absolutely do not form a grammatically correct English sentence leave my mouth.
I’ve never had shower sex before, though I’ve listened with tearsof laughter in my eyes as Cami talked me through the logistical nightmare of her and David trying it in a space that was admittedly much smaller than this one. But Will doesn’t look concerned with logistics as his fingers play between my legs, as my body wilts against him.
“Waiting on a confirmation,” he says.
I manage a shaky “Yes.”
His hands move to my hips. Deftly, he hauls me off the ground and pushes my back against the tile. On instinct, both of my hands reach up to wrap around the showerhead.
I don’t know how he manages it—if I was more lucid, maybe I would have paid better attention—butsomehow,he enters my body in a single, perfect movement without ever readjusting his hold on my ass.
“ThankyouEquinox,” I say on a garbled exhale.
Will laughs, his eyes twinkling at me. He presses closer, officially hinging my body to his. “Tell me, Josie. Do you think you’ll forget this?”
I shake my head, unable to form words at the feel of him inside me.
He kisses me languorously, the rest of his body frozen still. “This is only going to work the way I want it to,” he says, nose dropping between my breasts, “if we go very slow.”
“Mkay,” I sigh out.
“You be still.”
“Not going anywhere,” I joke with a smile.
His lips tilt up, and at the same time, he starts to move his hips.
Slowly.
Slowly.
Slowly.
Something about the angle Will is employing is working against my body so thoroughly I see stars. My back arches when he groansand bites softly at my shoulder. The space between our bodies is negatively charged, like electricity about to give off a staticcrack.I’m lightheaded.
“How does it feel for you?” he asks, voice muffled against my skin.
Transcendent.
Impossible.
“It feels good,” I say. Though the way I say it—breathy and broken and vulnerable—tells him what I mean but can’t articulate. That it feels a lot better thangood.
“You are so good,” he says, picking up his pace by only a fraction. It’s a tempo designed to drive me crazy. “Thebest.Because it’s you, and your body might have beenmadefor me. Look how perfect we fit, Josephine. Look what our bodies can do.”
“I know,” I say. “This is insane.”
Our foreheads rock against each other. “So good,” he says again. “You are so—so—”
