“Goddammit, woman.” I let out a shaky breath. “I can’t think when you’re doing that.”
“I’ve always preferred showing to telling.” Her voice dropped low, sultry. I could just make out the flutter of lashes against her creamy skin.
“Is that right?”
“Mmhm. Absolutely.”
“That,” I said, grabbing her hips and pulling her forward against my hard cock, “I can do.”
Cleo laughed as I walked us into the shower. There was barely enough room for the two of us to stand together, but it wasn’t any hardship for me. I loved knowing she was within my grasp. The fact I couldn’t move without touching her was a comfort I never realized I would ache for.
“Grady, our clothes,” she said, looking down at my jeans, which were now sitting at my ankles. “You could’ve at least let me finish taking them off.”
“They’re just clothes,” I said with a shrug. “And they’re already stained with cum. I don’t think a little water is gonna hurt them, bluebird.”
“Oh my god,” she mumbled, reaching behind me for the body wash. “Do me a favor and get those off so we have a little more room.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I said, earning an eyeroll when I gave her a salute. I loved this bossy side of her, how she’d become more assertive with age. Part of it was a front, I could tell. I think she assumed she needed to be bossy because she carried the weight of being the oldest, but sometimes I think she enjoyed it.
I opened the shower door as much as I could, tossing the sopping wet clothes in the sink before turning to her. I glanced down at the panties she still wore. They were so thin, completely soaked, and I could just see the outline of her pussy. “Your turn.”
Crowding her against the wall, I let my hands trail down her arms until they rested at her waist. Cleo trembled as I slipped my fingers beneath the fabric and slowly tugged them down her legs. Part of the way, at least. The shower really was small, so she had to finish the job once they got past her knees.
Note to self: Make sure all future bathroom spaces are large enough to fit two people comfortably.
Suddenly, there was nothing between us. I could see all of her, and she could see all of me. There was something erotic about simply being able to look at her. I knew it made her uncomfortable, but her body was beautiful. Sure, it’d changed, but the only regret I had when staring at her was I missed it happening.
“You’re stunning,” I said, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Gorgeous.” She opened her mouth, likely to protest, but I stopped her. “Can I wash you?”
“Wash me?” she echoed.
“If that’s okay with you?”
Cleo furrowed her brows. “Why would you want to do that? I can wash myself.”
My feelings about her ex were complicated. I hated the man, hated what he did to her—both mentally and physically—but I also wished he had treated her like the queen she was. The fact that I wanted to care for her on every level shouldn’t have come as a surprise. It should’ve been the bare minimum, honestly.
Even though my relationship with Liv was complicated, I’d washed her hair more times than I could count, especially after Charlie was born. If she needed help taking a shower, I would’ve done it without hesitation. Things were only sexual if they were made to be. It was just a form of care, of adoration. Why would anyone shy away from that, especially if they loved someone?
“I know you can. The point is Iwantto wash you, baby. I want to shower you, literally, with affection. I want an excuse to touch you,” I said, lowering my voice. I let my fingertip trail from her shoulder down her chest to her nipple. “To tease you.” And then I went lower until I found the patch of trimmed hair between her thighs. Whether she meant to or if it was instinct, her legs parted for me. “To make up for lost time.” She let out a soft moan as I brushed her clit. “But if you don’t want that…”
“I do,” Cleo said quickly. “I want it so badly.”
“Then hand me the shampoo. We’ll start there.”
Cleo did as I asked, turning around and handing over the bottle. Her hair was already soaked through, so I poured some of the shampoo into my palm before gently running my hands through her strands. She closed her eyes as I began to massage her scalp, making noises that went straight to my cock.
“He never did this for you?” I asked, keeping my voice low. “Not even when you were sick?”
“Never,” she said, giving her head a little shake. “But to be fair, I never asked him to.”
That was the thing with Cleo. When it came to others, she never expected anyone to do something unless she asked. She carried the weight of everything on her shoulders, yet she would bend over backwards to help others without them so much as uttering a word. No matter how often I tried to get her to see that when we were kids, I’d hoped she would’ve changed her outlook.
“He should never have needed to be asked to do something nice for you, Cleo. He should’ve just done it because he wanted to, because he knew it would make you feel better or take something off your plate.”
She didn’t say anything as I grabbed the detachable showerhead and rinsed all the soap out before going in with conditioner. “Body wash, please.” I held out my hand and she placed it in my palm. I looked around, realizing I had never grabbed a washcloth. It slipped my mind because I’d let my other head focus on the earth-shattering orgasms and Cleo’s naked body instead.
My hand would have to do this time, but I sure as hell wasn’t complaining. I kneaded her muscles as I let my soap-filled hands roam across her body. I paid attention to the spots that made her gasp or moan or shake. Her breasts were a favorite. When I delicately rolled her nipples between my fingers, she let her head fall back against my shoulder. By the time I made it to her back, I felt her relax fully into my touch. “How’s that feel?” I whispered, noting the way she shivered as my breath caressed her ear.
