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He grunted long and loud, his abs tightening against my inner thighs, before coming to a complete and total standstill.
“We need to wash off before the hot water gets drained all the way,” he said, sounding out of breath just like me.
“I’m honestly not sure about the state of my knees,” I said. “If you let me go, I might very well crash to the ground. Impersonate a boom of thunder and all that jazz.”
He laughed and pulled out of me, making me whimper at the feeling of emptiness.
“Sorry, baby,” he said, moving us until I was once again under the spray of the water. “Can’t stay in there forever. My parents might frown upon that.”
I gagged and reached for the shower railing but coming up short.
“Give me that soap, please,” I ordered. “Also, you’re drowning me with the water that’s splashing off of your chest.”
Another boom of thunder shook the world around us, and I had a pang of worry jolt through me.
“I don’t want to die naked,” I told him. “Hurry.”
He laughed and moved back so the water wasn’t splashing me directly in the face, then helped me out by pulling the showerhead directly off the wall and aiming it lower.
I washed away the evidence of the last hour with him, then handed him back the soap.
“Thank you,” I said softly.
The blush that blazed over my face was bright red, I could tell.
Luckily, it was so dark in the tiny bathroom without any windows that there really wasn’t anything to see.
After shutting the water off, he helped guide me to the bath mat, then ordered me to stay still as he disappeared into the room beyond.
He came back short moments later with his phone’s flashlight on.
He grinned at my nakedness, then walked to a cabinet and withdrew two towels.
“You should’ve gotten those first,” I told him as I pointed at the puddles of water. “Now we’re going to have to clean those up.”
He looked at them dismissively as he placed his phone down onto the counter face down.
I dried myself off a lot slower than he did, and when he was done, he threw the towel down on the floor and gave a half-ass attempt at cleaning up the large puddles that gathered after he’d walked through the room earlier.
I watched as I completely dried myself off, then hung the towel up on the towel bar when I was done.
And, when it was obvious that Justice’s attempt at cleaning was all he was going to do, I got dressed in what I’d arrived in his room earlier in, then cleaned up every bit of water before looking around for a hamper.
“What do I do with the dirty towel?” I asked curiously.
He crashed down onto the bed with another jolt of thunder accompanying him, then said, “There’s not a hamper. Toss it onto the floor by the door. I’ll get it in the morning.”
Even though I hated the idea of leaving it there, I did as he asked, then went back to the bathroom for his phone.
After walking into the bedroom, I handed it to him and reached for my own phone.
I had it within my grasp when he tugged me unceremoniously into the bed and pinned me underneath of his body.
“Now tell me about what we were talking about earlier,” he ordered, beads of water still slickening the skin on his back.
I smiled, not bothering to feign ignorance.
“There was this guy at work that constantly gave me shit,” I said. “Four days a month when I was having my period, I turned into this emotional, barely-can-stand-up mess. He always knew when I was on it, too. Like he had this sixth sense. And then he started giving Stratton shit about how I always got special treatment on the days that happened. And because he didn’t have the same problems, he should get a pay raise from having to pick up my slack. Since it actually was kind of true, I decided to consult a doctor about it, and he suggested birth control. It hasn’t totally alleviated the shittiness of my period, but it’s definitely helped. Now I have about four days every three months that knock me off my feet. Not every month.”
There was a long pause as Justice acknowledged everything, then he said, “The guy sounds like an asshole.”
I snorted. “He was. But he was a truthful asshole. If I wanted to be doing a man’s job like I was doing—according to him—I needed to be able to function like a male. And I couldn’t take off every four days just because my uterus hates me.”
He wisely didn’t comment on that.
“Why the bad periods?” he asked. “I’ve been around quite a few females, including my mother and sister, and they never had periods that took them out like you’re describing.”
