The intensity hits me all at once. I collapse on my stomach, falling into a puddle of my own come. My chest heaves as I try to catch my breath.
Mason sinks down beside me, wrapping me up in his arms and pulling me tight against him. He exhales a tired, satisfied breath before pressing a soft kiss to my cheek.
“That was really fucking good,” he murmurs against my ear.
“Yeah,” I breathe, eyelids heavy. “We should probably shower, and I need to change the sheets.”
He groans in protest. “In a minute.”
So I let him hold me, ignoring the mess drying between us, and settle into the rhythm of his chest rising and falling. His fingers trace idle shapes on my shoulder, zig-zagging across my skin, raising goosebumps in their wake.
“We’re gonna have so much fun this summer, babyface,” he says, voice thick with affection.
My lips curl into a smile, brushing the curve of his collarbone. “So much fun,” I whisper back.
Chapter Seventeen
Hot water sprays from the rainfall showerhead, soothing my tense muscles. Steam fills the glass stall as Mason steps in behind me, arms slipping around my waist. I lean back against his chest, still pleasantly sore in all the right places.
“This is the nicest shower I’ve ever been in,” he says, nosing at my neck.
“It’s alright,” I tease, shrugging casually.
In reality, this bathroom is absurd. Massive countertop, twin glass bowl sinks, mood lighting, and a huge jet tub. There’s even a bidet I once swore I’d never use—until I did. Now I can’t imagine living without it. I’m already planning to install one in my apartment back in Shelby Harbor.
I grab my green loofah and squirt a generous glob of lavender-scented body wash onto it. As I work it into a lather, I turn to face Mason. The heat from the shower flushes his freckled skin a soft pink. His hair is soaked, curls flattened and dripping past his shoulders. Water beads on his body, sliding down his chest and highlighting every defined line.
I press the loofah to his chest, scrubbing slow circles over his pecs, then down his stomach, watching the suds trail between his abs.
“God, you’re so hot it’s unfair,” I blurt, almost annoyed.
“Hey, I work hard to look like this,” he says, flexing his arms overhead. “I lift four times a week.”
“Yeah, I can tell,” I mutter. “You’re standing here like a Greek god while I look like a wet sewer rat.”
He throws his head back and cackles, the sound of his laughter bouncing off the tile walls. “Wet sewer rat?! That’s what you’re going with?”
I stand on my toes to scrub over his shoulders. “Yeah, you heard me.”
“You seriously must be blind,” he says, still grinning. “You’re the cutest guy I’ve ever been with.”
I blink up at him. “You’re such a bad liar.”
“I’m not lying! You’re hot in, like... a sexy nerdy way. Sneaky-hot.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Is that meant to be a compliment?”
“Itisa compliment,” he insists.
Rolling my eyes, I hand him the loofah. “Whatever. Wash your dick. I’ll get hard if I do it.”
He snickers but obeys, rinsing off quickly before stepping closer again. With gentle fingers, he tilts my chin up. I meet his eyes—swirls of green and brown like a mossy forest floor.
I feel a little breathless. I’m not sure if it’s the steam or the way he’s looking at me.
“You don’t even know the effect you have on me, Hunter,” he murmurs, leaning in to kiss me.
His lips are hot and wet from the shower, water dripping between our faces. His fingers trace through my soaked hair, and I melt against his touch.
