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“Your touch doesn’t do anything for me if it’s over my clothes,” she explained to me, as we headed for the kitchen. Her laptop went back on the table, and I abandoned the dishes in the sink.
“It’s not a hardship for me to touch your skin,” I said.
She flashed me an amused look. “I sat on your lap in the Hummer, remember? I know exactly how much of a hardship I am for you.”
I chuckled, and her gaze dipped to my erection, fighting against my sweats. She bit her lip, and her scent changed slightly.
I wasn’t well-enough acquainted with her smell to know exactly what the change was, but I assumed it had something to do with her desire.
Or maybe I just hoped for that.
I was losing my mind.
We made it to the bathroom, and she started the water after gesturing for me to turn around. I did, and couldn’t help but look down when her clothes hit the floor beside me.
The shower’s doors were made of glass, so she was going to want me facing away from her the whole time. It’d give a new meaning to the term cruel and unusual punishment.
“Does the house smell better to you now?” she asked me, as she stepped under the water.
“A little. I need to open the windows, to air out the smell of the cleaning solution.”
“And then you’ll be able to smell me better?” She stumbled over the words, and I knew the concept was still strange to her. Hell, it was still strange to me, and I’d known about it my whole life.
“In theory.”
“Why in theory?”
“The scent of your shampoo and shower gel is strong.”
“Oh.” There was a pause.
A long, drawn-out pause.
“I’ll survive,” I finally said, not wanting to lose the ground we’d gained on the porch.
“I didn’t realize it was that big of a deal. Does it bother you?”
Constantly.
“A bit,” I said.
“Liar.” She was quiet for a moment. The shower’s door opened, and her slick hand landed on my bare shoulder.
My cock throbbed painfully, but her soft sigh told me the contact soothed her. That alone made the temptation worth it.
Her hand lingered on my skin. “Go get your unscented stuff. I can look online for something that doesn’t smell as strong.”
“It bothered you last time.”
“My hair doesn’t like it,” she agreed. “But I’ll just tie it up until whatever I order arrives. My mom is a hair stylist; she’ll probably have an idea about what I should buy. Or a few bottles she can send me.”
“Are you sure?”
She squeezed my shoulder lightly.
I closed my eyes and let out a long breath, struggling against the need to wrap my hand around my cock.
“Yes, I’m sure.”
