I grab his hand and walk him to the bathroom. “Here, come on.”
When we get there, I open the shower curtain and turn on the water. His eyes roam to the tub faucet, pouring with water, then to me.
“Get on your knees,” I tell him.
He widens his eyes, and the corner of his lip tugs into a smirk. “I know we used to be in a relationship, but you’re coming on a little strong.”
I tilt my head. “Ha, ha.” I tug at his wrist. “I’m going to wash your hair for you.”
“You don’t need to do that. It’s fine.” He ruffles his hair with both hands, making a bigger mess. “See?”
Flour continues to float through the air when I wave my hand around, getting it out of my face.
I tug on his wrist again. “Yes, I do. You look like Casper the ghost.”
“Casper, thefriendlyghost.”
“Just get on the floor, Rowan.”
He finally does what I ask but gives me the stink eye the entire time. I reply with a pretty smile. When he gets on his knees, he grabs the back of his shirt with one hand and pulls it off and over his head.
My lip’s part when I look at his smooth, tanned skin and the muscles that work through his back. I didn’t think about him taking his shirt off. I figured he would have left it on.
“You have a lot of bottles in here. Is all this shampoo?” His voice echoes off the tub and through the small space.
He looks at me, and when I realize I’m still staring at him, I snap out of it. I look at the bottles. I have no shame when it comes to my shower game. There are multiple bottles of shampoo and conditioner in different scents. I base the scent on my mood of the day.
Lavender, vanilla, coconut, lemons. I also had a body scrub that smelled like a margarita. Riley stole that one from me.
“Yeah, do you have a specific scent you like?” I ask. “What type of mood are you in?”
He turns around. “My mood?” He looks back at the display of bottles. “Use whatever one is your favorite.”
My favorite. The one that’s used the most out of all of them. It’s a strawberry vanilla scent that pairs with a conditioner. I grab the bottle and pour some into my hand, lathering it up.
He grips the edge of the tub and leans forward under the bathtub faucet. His shoulder blade muscles are working, and his biceps are flexing. His deep brown hair hits the rush of the water and makes it look much darker than it is.
I let my eyes wander over his skin. Every freckle that covers his shoulders. The tiny birthmark that sits between his shoulder blades. The way his neck moves gracefully.
“I’m ready,” Rowan says, pulling my attention while he’s still bent under the water.
“Okay, go ahead and sit up. I’ll try not to get any soap in your eyes.”
“You promise?”
“I promise.”
After I wash his hair, he offers to do the same for me, and I am not going to pass up the opportunity to have my hair washed by him. His large hands brush gently over my wet hair, letting it suds up perfectly. He takes his time to massage my scalp as well, causing my eyes to roll to the back of my head.
I’m sure I let out a soft moan because he stopped for a moment and then continued again. I was expecting Milo to come in here and see what was going on, but he was sleeping in the sun that was bathing him through the windows. I wouldn’t have moved either.
When Rowan’s done washing my hair, he grabs a towel from the closet and gently dries it for me. I smile through the whole thing.
“Want me to brush your hair for you?” he asks, wrapping the towel around his neck.
His shirt is still off, and I wonder if that’s on purpose. I won’t question it. I look down at my own shirt and it’s still covered in flour and a little wet in random spots.
“Can I change out of my clothes?” I ask.
