Breasts I’m dying to sink my teeth into. Nipples that look like they need my fucking attention. Her waist narrows below her flat stomach, meeting her hips before a pussy that’s?—
Her hands slap the bathtub, gripping the side of it as she looks up at me, chest heaving, eyes wide, face slack. “Ah, ouch.”
She moves to sit up.
“Fuck, are you alright? I?—”
“No sneaking up on a girl, Miles. Jesus, you almost killed me.”
She sits up, leaning against the side of the tub, and her forehead meets the edge. “Can you pass me a towel?”
“Of course, sorry,” I rasp.
I swipe my towel from the rack, the only one in reach, and place it in her outstretched hand.
“Thank you,” she mutters.
I move to leave, but she groans, the squeak of skin against the tub echoing through the bathroom.
“Ca—can you help me up.”
I close my eyes briefly before turning back and standing by the tub. “Come on, your turn to be coddled.”
She chuckles. “Guess I deserved that. In my defense, that friend of yours, Lawson, put me up to it.”
“Yeah, I know.”
I hang both hands out for her, and she looks up and takes them. Her fingers slide through mine and the world has never felt more right.
I turn my head as she rises and steps out of the bath.
“Actually, can you run the water. I need to wash my hair out, but my hands are all slippery and wrinkly now.”
I turn back to find my towel wrapped around her body. Never before in the history of man has one wanted to be a towel so desperately.
I lean over and run the water.
When she steps back in and passes the towel out past the curtain, I take it. “I’m not leaving until you’re done. You’re a hazard, woman.”
She chuckles.
“Oh Miles, you have no idea.” Her hands work the shampoo from her hair, and my only regret is that it’s my shampoo and not hers.
Her hair will have lost the fragrance I have come to adore.
Even in passing at the station, it’s a familiarity I’ve come to expect.
A part of her my senses have become attuned to.
“Miles?” The shower curtain moves. “Towel, please?”
“Let me get you your own.”
I pad to the hallway and pull out a fresh towel. Wandering back to the bathroom, I see Petal rise and circle her spot on the duvet before huffing a sigh and laying down, her eyes closing. Right on the spot London was sleeping on.
Looks like I’m not the only one set on this fiery, sweet woman.
“Don’t get attached, girl,” I mutter before crossing the bathroom threshold.
