“Hey, baby,” he says, stepping aside to let me in.
No matter how many times he calls me that, it never fails to make me tingle.
I duck my head, heat blooming in my cheeks as I step inside. I slip off my shoes by the door and crouch long enough to give Cryptid a few pets as he winds around my ankles, purring like he’s missed me.
“So,” Troy says, clearing his throat a little too deliberately, “I’m gonna take a quick shower.”
“Oh. Okay.” I nod toward the couch. “I’ll, uh, wait here, I guess.”
He huffs a short, disbelieving laugh, shaking his head. “Ash.” His eyes meet mine, dark and earnest. “I was asking if you want to… you know. Join me.”
My eyes widen. “Oh! Um…”
He squeezes my bicep. “It’s fine if you don’t want to—”
“I want to,” I interrupt, probably sounding a little too eager, but I don’t care. The thought of seeing Troy naked, his tan skin drippingwet and covered in suds, is enough to have me bursting at the seams with excitement.
Relief softens his features as he takes my hand, leading me down the short hallway to the bathroom. Cryptid makes a valiant attempt to follow, but Troy gently shuts the door behind us, shaking his head with a quiet laugh.
The bathroom is small and practical. A pedestal sink is crowded with a blue toothbrush, a toothpaste tube rolled tight to squeeze out the last bit, and a dwindling bar of soap I recognize from one of the farmers market vendors. The gray linoleum floor has seen better days, a few tiles peeling at the corners.
Troy reaches past the shower curtain to turn on the water, letting it warm. Then he grabs the hem of his T-shirt and pulls it over his head, revealing the soft curve of his belly and the dark trail of hair down his stomach. My eyes sweep across his plush chest, landing on the glint of metal on his nipples.
Holy fuck. He has pierced nipples.
“You like ’em?” he asks, flicking one of the bars.
I just stare.
No thoughts, head empty.
The only things that matter in the world are Troy’s pierced nipples.
“You can play with them later,” he says with a wink.
I nod eagerly. “God, yes.”
He smirks and unbuttons his jeans. When he steps out of them, he glances up at me as I stand there, still fully dressed, his brows pinched.
“Do you normally shower with your clothes on?” he teases.
I scoff, heat rushing to my cheeks. “Shut up.”
Drawing in a steadying breath, I start undressing. Troy gives a hum of approval, the sound low and covetous, as his gaze rakes over my bare chest, then down to my half-hard cock. Steam thickens the air, the mirror above the sink fogging until our reflections blur.
“Come on,” he murmurs, stepping out of his underwear.
I nearly trip over the edge of the tub as I follow him into the shower. It’s cramped, leaving no room to avoid each other. Warm water falls between us, sliding down Troy’s body and tracing every line and plane of muscle.
He grabs a washcloth and lathers his chest. I watch the suds drip down his large pecs and travel across his pudgy belly, catching in the patch of curly hair above his dick. The fresh, woodsy scent of the soap drifts through the space between us.
I take in his exposed tattoos, dark ink stark beneath the harsh fluorescent bathroom lights. A bunch of daffodils winds around his bicep, bound together by a ribbon inked with the nameRachel. An anatomical heart marks his left wrist, a dagger driven clean through it, blood dripping from the blade. Laurels frame his collarbones, and my gaze follows one trailing branch upward, landing on the familiar snake coiled along the side of his neck.
He’s breathtaking.
After he rinses himself, he takes his time with me. He drags the cloth against my chest in slow, reverent circles. I hadn’t realized how badly I’d been craving his touch until now. My eyes flutter shut as I lean into him, willing myself to relax. It’s intensely intimate, letting him clean me like this, getting into all my nooks and crannies—and yet, I’m unexplainably comfortable.
“God,” he breathes, eyes dark as they meet mine. “You’re gorgeous.”
