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Still, that didn’t stop him rolling over and hugging me.
“What are you doing?” I muttered.
“Sleeping.”
“People don’t touch me when I sleep.”
“At all?”
“At all,” I confirmed. “I can’t be touched.”
He threw up his arms and rolled onto his back.
Sighing happily, I got comfortable on my side, snuggling down.
Adam reached over and grabbed my ass.
I cleared my throat.
“Compromise,” he muttered.
And a compromise it was.
***
I groaned and rolled over. There was a heavy as hell weight on my stomach, and I didn’t like it. And it didn’t make any sense since I couldn’t sleep when someone was touching me.
I opened my eyes after a few heavy blinks and looked at the hand on the bed right next to mine. Slowly, I followed the tanned, strong arm from the hand up to the shoulder that belonged to Adam Winters.
How had this happened?
Slowly, I wriggled my way out of his hold and onto the floor. I was wearing nothing but a pair of panties, and I crossed my arm over my boobs as I tiptoed into the bathroom.
I looked in the mirror. I was a mess. My eye makeup was smudged, making me look a little too much like a baby panda bear, and my lipstick was smeared at the corner of my mouth.
I grabbed a facial wipe—or two—and cleared my face of the mess that had been created by sex and lots of kissing. As I wiped the final black smudges from my eye, I reached into the spacious walk-in shower and turned on the hot water.
I finished cleaning my face and tossed the wipe into the trashcan next to the sink. Taking off my clothes took me all of two seconds, and I stepped into the shower under the hot water.
I blew out a long breath as the power shower beat down on my shoulders. It worked my muscles as I rolled and twisted side to side, making sure my entire body felt the effects of the hot water.
The door slid open.
I turned with a jerk. “What are you doing in here?”
“Showering,” Adam murmured, stepping up behind me, completely naked. He pulled the door shut and wrapped one arm around me. “What are you doing?”
“Showering,” I said simply. “What else am I doing in a shower?”
“I can think of a few things we could do in the shower.”
“I’m sure you can, but this isn’t a porn movie, and I just want to wash my hair.”
He laughed, kissing my shoulder, his head dipping under the stream of water. “So, wash your hair.”
“I’ll probably punch you in the face.”
“I think I’ll survive.”
I rolled my eye and reached for the shampoo I’d put in here yesterday afternoon. My hair was the weird mix of both natural and fake ginger-slash-orange. An ombre, almost. My natural color at the roots and a lighter, brighter orange at the ends. It drove my mother insane, but the brightness reflected me far better than the darker, copper-ginger ever could.
I squeezed a healthy dollop of shampoo into my hands and rubbed them together. Somehow, I managed to get it onto my head without actually punching Adam in the face and lathered it up. I rinsed and reached for the conditioner.
This time, I wasn’t so lucky.
My elbow connected with his jaw.
“Fuck!” He stepped back from me.
“I told you!” I said, turning as I ran the conditioner through my hair. “I warned you I’d hit you.”
“No, you said you’d punch me in the face.” He worked his jaw side-to-side. “Not elbow me in the fucking jaw.”
“Whatever. You knew you’d get hit. Ugh.” I turned, so my head was under the water and rinsed the conditioner out. Somewhere in the middle of rinsing it, I spun back around and tilted my head back so it all washed out.
When my hair ran clean, I turned back around to Adam. His hair was soaped, and he gripped my hands.
“Turn around,” he muttered, grabbing my sponge from the tiny plastic shelf.
“I can clean myself.”
“Sure, you can, but shut up.” He soaped up the sponge and turned me, then ran the sponge up and down my arm. Hot, soapy water covered my skin as he pulled me back from the shower flow and rubbed the sponge over my back. It moved over my shoulders and down my other arm slowly.
It was weird. Nobody had ever done this for me—at least since I was six. But there was something so weirdly sexy about Adam using the sponge to explore my body.
Hmm. Sexy.
Did he want shower sex?
God. I wasn’t a sex in the shower girl. I was a slip-on-the-soap in the shower girl.
Hell, who said I needed soap?
“Uh, Adam?”
“Yeah?”
“We’re not going to have sex in the shower, are we?”
Adam stilled, then spun me around and pulled me forward a step so I wouldn’t get pelted in the face with water. “Why?” he said, eyebrow raised. “Are you offering?”
