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All of my concentration was solely on him.
And there was no anxiety here.
It felt right—being in his presence.
Silently I cursed myself for pushing him away over the last couple of months.
I could’ve had weeks of this, and I’d deprived myself of it.
How stupid was I?
Suddenly Sammy’s hands were on my face and he was pressing my cheeks together so that my lips turned up. “Stop thinking so hard. Forget about the past. Let’s live in the now. Mistakes happen.”
Between scrunched up lips I said, “I don’t usually make them.”
He winked. “Shower.”
Then the rest of our clothes were gone, and he was somehow fitting us into the shower together.
“I think as long as you don’t need to shave,” he said, “we should be good.”
I looked down at our bodies that were plastered together from head to toe.
His hard cock was resting against both of our bellies, and my breasts were smashed against his chest. Water was sluicing down the length of both of our bodies, and the bottom half of my hair was plastered against my skin.
He dragged his finger down the length of my arm, his eyes warm and happy.
I looked up into his face and found myself wishing that he would kiss me.
As if he’d read my thoughts, he dropped his mouth to mine then said, “Now where’s your shampoo?”
I looked around dazedly.
“Umm,” I hesitated. “I forgot to bring more in here. I used the last of it this morning.”
He sighed and looked at me with those beautiful blue eyes of his.
“What am I going to do with you, Hasty?” he asked.
I laughed into his chest. “Hasty?”
“It was shorter than Hastings. That’s a mouthful,” he admitted as he pushed the shower door open and then walked, naked and dripping, across the room to my vanity.
When he opened it he saw my stockpile of shampoo, conditioner, and soap.
Oh, and razors. I had a shit ton of razors.
He looked at me as he said, “What all do you need? It looks like you robbed a store under here.”
“Shampoo and conditioner,” I said. “Shaving will be next to impossible with you in here, remember?”
He nodded as if he completely remembered that, coming back with shampoo and conditioner.
Placing them on the top rung of the shower, he climbed back inside, once again plastering himself to me.
I shivered at his chilled skin, and my already hard nipples went even more erect.
He noticed and grinned down at me while he pulled back just far enough that the hot water could slide down his front.
“Can I wash your hair?” he asked, pulling the showerhead off the wall and pulling my hair back by tugging lightly on the wet ends.
I licked my lips and said, “Yes.”
So that was what he did.
After getting an overly generous six pumps of shampoo, he started to work it through my hair.
Soon I had to close my eyes due to the amount of suds, but I couldn’t help but feel giddy at the way he was touching me.
His fingers felt divine in my hair, and there was a second or two there that I almost purred.
“Your hair is a lot longer than it looked when you had it up,” he murmured softly.
I didn’t open my eyes, but I did say, “It’s wavy and I wear it in a ponytail a lot because I don’t want to fix it. It takes too long, and if it’s humid, it won’t matter anyway.”
He hummed as he pulled the showerhead once again off the wall and washed the suds free of my hair.
When I next opened my eyes, hoping that it’d been long enough for all the soap to be washed away, it was to see pleasure lighting the hard features of his face.
“Now, you’re gonna want to use the same amount of conditioner,” I said. “I have to keep these even.”
His tone was amused as he said, “Is that right? Why?”
I shrugged. “That’s the key to finishing the shampoo and the conditioner at the same time. A couple of years ago, one of my readers commented about how it was impossible to finish them both at the same time. So I started to see if I could do it. And realized that the majority of the time I would finish my conditioner wayyyy before I finished my shampoo. Now I do even pumps.”
He reached up to get six pumps of the conditioner, accidentally spraying water over the shower stall when he didn’t put the head back in its holder.
“Whoops,” he said as he hung it back up and then brought the conditioner to the top of my head. “Didn’t mean to do that.”
A cynical inner voice cut through my thoughts as I studied his beautiful face.
He really was gorgeous. And wet, with his hair slicked back from his face, and water running down his face and falling into the hollows of his dimples, only seemed to add to his attraction.
