“What’s wrong?”he asks perceptively, nodding at me over the wineglass as his big feet plant themselves at my back.
“Nothing,” I lie, thinking of Parker’s lecture on the way to the Galleria that morning and struggling to heed its battle cry.“I’ve just ...no one’s ever...”
The tears come hard and fast, slithering down my face before I can stop them.He moves to comfort me, but I still him with a dripping hand against his flat chest.“No, it’s fine,” I croak, managing an ironic little giggle along the way.“They’re ...they’re happy tears, I promise.”
He sinks back, gripping the sides of the tub with fraught concern.“I’ll always try to make you happy, baby.”
“That’s just it.”I sigh, tears drying as fast as they came.“I just ...I mean...”I wave my glass around the romantic bathroom, rustic and sprawling, light and airy, and at its center?The most handsome, sensitive, kind, generous, funny, giving man I’m ever likely to meet.“Why can’t you live in LA you big, sexy hunk?”
“Why can’t you make your stupid western shows here, you sexy little shit?”He chuckles, bath water rippling across my chest from his vibrant chuckle.“Then we could soak like this every night.”
“Not sure I could handle that,” I murmur, watching Grady sip his glass half-empty before licking his big, rouged lips and reaching for a loofah sponge hanging from the wall.Beside it is a fancy dispenser of body wash, from which he pumps two quick spurts of a creamy, coconut-smelling soap into the middle of the sponge.He dampens the loofah and wriggles it until it becomes foamy, then uses his free hand to reach under the water and grip my ankle.
“The fuck?”I chuckle at the sudden movement.
“Sorry,” he lies.The big, sexy lug’s not sorry at all.He gently tugs my foot upward, forcing me to sink down to my chin in the simmering hot water.“I just ...you make me want to try new things.”
“Like ...wash my feet?”I purr, not complaining about the way his big hand feels cupping my heel while he lathers and lingers around my toes.
“Yeah,” he grunts, our eyes meeting above his efforts.“You got a problem with that?”
I shake my head soberly.“I trust you to have good intentions, Cowboy.”
He winks.“Always.”
I wink back.“Even if it hurts a little.”
“You asked for that, Hollywood!”
We chuckle as he makes quick work of lathering my foot before letting it sink beneath the water’s surface.The effort gives the rippling waves atop the tub a sudsy sheen.“I thought you didn’t fuck with soap anymore,” I remind him.
“I don’t fuck with bubble bath,” he grunts, snatching my other foot to the surface as I nearly submerge in the process.“This is different.”As if to prove it, he pumps a few more dollops of body wash onto the soapy loofah and attacks my left foot with wild abandon.
I murmur at his tender attention: the way the spongy loofah tickles between my toes, the way he sticks his tongue out while scrubbing the sole of my foot clean, the way he tenderly rasps the sponge along my arch, as if studying its every pucker and wrinkle.
“Mmmm, baby,” I grumble, the warm, soapy water doing delicious things to my floating sac and bobbing cock.“That’s fuckingnice.”
“It’s nice now,” he insists, letting my foot sink to the bottom as I gently hoist myself back up to chest height.“It’ll be hot later.”
“Later?”I murmur, wondering what my sexy host has up his sleeve.
“Yeah, later, when I suck those toes clean off your foot!”
We giggle at the delicious implications as I snatch the loofah from his hand.“Two can play at that game,” I mutter, reaching down with my free hand to yank his big, size-twelver up and out of the water.I yank a little too hard, submerging him completely and giggling as he comes up for air, lips sputtering, nostrils flaring, eyelashes batting, and scrubbing water off his face.“Sorry?”I pretend to apologize.
“You’ll pay for that,” he promises, sinking back as I lather and soap his big foot tenderly.
“Don’t threaten me with a good time.”I sigh, enjoying the way his big toes gleam in the soapy candlelight.
“Thatdoesfeel good,” he admits, even sexier when wet.
“Right?”I purr, following the curve of his arch to lather his sole the same way he did mine.
“I may just become a foot guy after all,” he teases.
“Foot, balls, ass, smile,” I murmur.“I’m just a Grady guy, through and through.”
“You don’t mean that,” he murmurs, gripping the edge of the tub tightly as I reach for his other foot.
