“Okay,” she says.
“Okay?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay what.”
She turns around. Faces me. Hands going to the hem of her shirt.
“Okay get in.”
She pulls her shirt over her head.
I get my t-shirt off.
She drops her bra. Steps out of her leggings. Underwear with them.
Stands there in the middle of the marble floor.
I have seen her naked enough times by now and I will never, ever get used to it.
Her shoulders — the way they go a little forward when she’s not sure of something. The military-kids posture relaxing one degree at a time. Her hand goes to her stomach in that small unconscious way it does when she’s letting herself be looked at.
“Jax.”
“Yeah.”
“You’re staring.”
“Yeah.”
“Turn the water on.”
I get the water on.
Both rainheads. I’m not going to be the man who only uses one of two rainheads in a bathroom this size. The water comes down hot inside of three seconds because Vegas isn’t going to let visiting teams wait on hot water like animals. Steam starts immediately.
I get my belt off.
Pants.
Boxers.
She watches.
I don’t rush.
She steps into the shower first. Pulls the glass door open and steps under one of the rainheads and tips her head back and her hair goes dark immediately and the water runs down her back and I am standing in a Vegas hotel bathroom watching this woman get wet in slow motion and my body is going to file a complaint with whoever’s in charge.
I follow her in.
Pull the door shut behind me.
She turns to face me.
Steam rising. The bathroom outside the glass already fogging at the edges.
She steps into me and puts her mouth on my collarbone and the water is running down both of us and her hand is sliding down my stomach and my body is registering all of this faster than my brain can keep up.
