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“No, I’m good.” Cain was pulling his shirt off over his head.
I really hoped Bella didn’t choose then to come out of her room. She didn’t. I had him safely in my suite, locking the door behind us. “The bathroom is right there. Towels are in the baskets under the sink.”
“Show me,” he said, the corner of his mouth turning up. He dropped his shirt onto the chair in the corner by the bathroom.
That chair was furry, which always irritated me. My mother knew I hated furry fabrics. They collected dirt.
I didn’t believe for one minute Cain couldn’t figure out how to find himself a towel. He wanted me in there, for whatever reason. “I really don’t think of you as being coy.” But I went into the bathroom and pulled out a bath towel. “Here you go.”
“Stay in here with me.” Cain turned the sink faucet on and bent his head under it. He drank the stream of water.
Okay. “I could have gotten you a water. I asked.”
He wiped his mouth and waved his hand. “Too much work. All I need is wet.”
I didn’t think he meant it to be sexual but nonetheless, I felt my eyebrows rise skeptically. He laughed.
“You’re such a dirty girl,” he teased. He reached out and chucked my chin. “But you’re right. I do like that wet. I like you wet.”
“How do you know what I’m thinking?”
“You’re an open book. I love that about you.” His hand drifted down and he stared at me for a second, his light eyes unreadable.
“What are you thinking?” I asked, curious. His mood was different tonight. Maybe it was the alcohol. I didn’t know. But I couldn’t figure out what was going through his head.
Cain unzipped his jeans. “I’m thinking that you need to join me in the shower.”
I was disappointed. I wanted something more, some sort of declaration or compliment or validation. Which scared me. I was seeking more from him, any signal that we were connected in some way. Which meant I was attaching. That was not good. I turned and opened the glass shower door. “You go ahead.” I wasn’t getting in that shower with him. I had never done that with anyone and it seemed awkward in the extreme.
Cain had removed his jeans. He stood there, all hard and muscular and tattooed, in my mother’s perfect, pretty en-suite bathroom. It was all-white cabinetry, Carrara marble, glossy white tile in a herringbone pattern. I knew that’s what it was called because my mother had debated its merits endlessly until I had wanted to tell her I did not give one fuck what the flooring looked like. Which would have destroyed her, so I kept my mouth shut.
But now, seeing her glossy white confection as a background against a very masculine and dirty-looking Cain had me sucking in a breath. Damn, this was naughty. And damn, did I love it. My mother would lose her shit if she knew what I was doing right now. I had never quested to be rebellious. That was never the point. I just didn’t care about the same things she did. Though Bella was right—sometimes I got petty. I smiled, feeling more relaxed. Maybe it wasn’t a bad thing to have him in my environment. He made all of this seem as ridiculous as I had always thought it was. It was the extended version of false eyelashes.
“I know what that smile means, Little Red,” he said. “Sit there and watch for a minute, then join me.” He brushed past me, his thigh knocking into my hip. Cain bent down and gave me a hard, demanding kiss.
He tasted different. Sweeter. Like fruit. But he was gone, stepping into the shower before I could decipher what exactly it was.
There was a stool that was meant for me to sit on and do my makeup, which I never did, but now I slid it out and perched, wanting a good view. Cain had his head back under the spray of water and was rubbing his neck, his eyes closed. He looked like the shower was the best thing to ever happen to him. That body of his…it still made me tense in awe. I felt desire stirring, the way it always did with him. I couldn’t believe how lucky I was to have marked him at the bar, the one man who had taken the time to make me feel all of this.
He lathered up his hands and opened his eyes. He held them out to me. “Come here, dirty girl. Do you like what you see?”
I nodded. “Oh, yes. Very much.” I didn’t hesitate. My earlier discomfort at the idea was still there, but I wanted to try it. I wanted to feel his hard, wet body against mine.
I had on jeans and a T-shirt and I stood up and wriggled out of them. He watched me, his eyes narrowed.
“Do you have any idea how hot you are?” he asked.
I undid my bra. “That’s a question that is impossible to respond to,” I told him. “If I say yes, I look arrogant. If I say no, it’s false modesty. I don’t think of myself as ‘hot’ per se, but I am fine with my body. Mostly, I am fine with showing it off to you because I like the way you look at me.”
Cain opened the glass door. “Get in here, you little flirt.”
I realized as I stripped my panties off that I had learned him and his behavior well enough to recognize he was teasing me. That he found my literal explanations cute in some weird way. I stepped into the shower, the spray bouncing off him and hitting my skin, giving me goosebumps. It wasn’t a small shower space at all, yet somehow with him in there, naked, it felt crowded. His leg brushed against mine, his hand dropping to my waist. He leaned in and kissed me, giving a small groan as he pulled away.
“Now this is exactly what I needed today.” His hands were still soapy and he massaged them over my ass, around my hips, up to my breasts.
My heart was racing, from a combination of both excitement and a tinge of fear. Or maybe it was adrenaline. But this was the strangest sensation. The steam, the hot water, the slick glide of his hands foaming with body wash. It was heady, arousing, and I reached down and pulled his cock into my fist and stroked him. He was already fully hard.
We touched, we kissed, we pushed against each other. It was a hot box, just me and him and steam and passion. I briefly wondered how long the hot water would hold out as we continued to grind and pet and kiss.
