She went to her room for candles while I started the water. Her bubble bath was on the edge of the tub, and I poured a generous amount under the tap.
The room filled with steam and the familiar scent of Zadie. Foam climbed toward the rim, threatening to spill over, just as she appeared in the doorway with a lit candle.
“Umm.” She stared at the mountain of bubbles. “I think you may have overdone it.”
“All the better to relax you with.” I took the candle from her and set it on the counter. “I’ll go put some music on. Preference?”
“Something mellow. I trust you.”
I trust you.
Two words. Probably just about the playlist. But they settled into my chest like a promise, warm and expanding, and I held onto them.
My phone was already on the audio dock in my room. I scrolled through my library and landed on a song that said everything. I set Ed Sheeran’s “Shape of You” on repeat and turned the volume up enough to carry through the walls.
When I came back to the bathroom, the door was closed. It didn’t stop me.
I opened it and walked straight in.
She was naked from the waist up, and her hands flew to grab her shirt, pressing it against her chest. “Cal! What are you doing?”
But not before I got an eyeful.
Full breasts, round and fucking perfect in the flickering candlelight. Freckled skin glowing warm and golden. All of her, so goddamn radiant.
“Helping. I told you I would.” My voice was a hell of a lot steadier than the rest of me. “Turn around. I won’t look.”
She hesitated. Then, with her shirt still clutched to her chest, she turned her bare back to me.
The messy tumble of her dark curls shifted against her skin. So much skin. The curve of her waist, the swell of her hip, the dimples at the base of her spine.
Forcing myself to focus, I gathered her hair and started to pile it on top of her head the way I’d watched her do it. But I got distracted.
The long, graceful line of her neck was exposed and vulnerable. And I couldn’t fucking resist. I bent down and pressed my lips to her nape.
For a second, she stiffened. But then her shoulders dropped and her head tilted, giving me room to explore.
So I took it.
I trailed my mouth over her skin, from her hairline to her shoulder. Her breathing hitched, each exhale shorter than the last, telling me everything I needed to know.
My lips sucked gently at the curve of her neck, then I dragged my tongue up the length of it to the spot behind her ear.
She tasted like sugar and salt, and I wanted to consume her. Every fucking inch. When I bit her earlobe, she moaned. Low and helpless and so beautiful it nearly broke me.
I pulled her back against me, her bare skin warm through my shirt, and reached around to pop the button on her jeans.
Her inhale was sharp, almost panicked.
“Take off your clothes and get in the tub,” I murmured against her ear. “I’ll close my eyes.”
“What?”
“I promise I won’t look. Get under the bubbles and tell me when you’re covered.”
I kissed the shell of her ear and forced myself to step back. Every nerve in my body protested. And my aching cock had some very specific opinions about my self-control.
I turned around. Behind me, I heard the whisper of denim hitting tile, the squeak of her foot on the tub, and the soft splashing of water. My imagination filled in every detail I couldn’t see. Explicitly.
