Page 21 of Jameson’s Salvation

Get a grip, Kennedy. Who cares if your pubes are out of control? Me. I care, dammit.

I jerked in surprise when a wet washcloth was pressed against my forehead. Then Jameson carefully commenced washing the soap off my face. He went back and rinsed the washcloth and repeated his efforts, paying close attention to my eyes.

“That should do it. Open your eyes.”

I slowly opened them and blinked. When I didn’t feel the burn of shampoo in my eyes, I stopped blinking. That was when I came face-to-face with Jameson, a look of concern on his handsome face.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Nope.”

“Care to explain.”

“I’m standing in my bathroom naked, not sure what the towel I’m holding is covering or what you saw—”

“I wasn’t looking, Kennedy. I was more concerned about what had you screaming.”

Well, that was somewhat of a disappointment and further hammered home his disinterest. I mean, I was grateful he didn’t get an eyeful, but at least he could’ve lied and said he was too gentlemanly to gawk.

“The water went cold,” I explained.

“The water went cold? It’s damn near ninety degrees outside, you were taking a hot shower?”

“No, not hot. But it was warm, then it was suddenly ice cold and it shocked the shit out of me. I didn’t mean to scream, it was just…well…shocking.”

His eyes flitted down to my chest before they came back to my face and gone was the concern. His gaze heated and I became acutely aware of how close he was standing. His hand came up and picked up a soapy hank of my hair and rubbed it between his fingers. When he set it back down the back of his knuckles brushed just below my collarbone. Slowly they skimmed down my bare skin, over the swell of my breast until I lost his touch because the damn towel was in the way. My nipples started to tingle and I doubted the terrycloth material would do much to prevent Jameson from feeling the hard nub as his knuckles grazed over it.

I stood motionless, our eyes locked, and in deep contemplation wondering if I should drop the towel. It would be easy, my hand was the only thing holding the bunched material to my front. Before I could summon up the bravery, Jameson dropped his hand and stepped back.

“I’ll let you figure out how you’re gonna rinse your hair and let Weston in.” His voice was deeper than I’d ever heard it—almost hoarse.

The gravelly sound made other parts of me tingle and my body shook. His hazel eyes flashed and I knew he saw it. How embarrassing.

“Kennedy?” he called.

“Yeah?”

“Rinse your hair and get dressed.”

“Right.”

But he made no effort to move and neither did I. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from his. There was something sparking between us and I didn’t want it to end. It may’ve only been one-sided, that side being mine, but it felt damn good.

“Now, babe.”

“You’re the one that needs to move,” I reminded him. “I’m the one standing here practically naked.”

“Son of a bitch,” he repeated his earlier remark and stepped away.

He turned and left and I remained rooted in place.

What the hell just happened?

I shook myself out of my stupor, shut the bathroom door, and looked at my sink. With no other choice but to rinse my hair in the small basin, I turned on the water and caught sight of myself in the mirror.

Hoping the towel had slipped some since I walked out of the shower, because if it hadn’t, Jameson had gotten quite a look. The material stopped just above my nipples and barely had covered my crotch.

Why did that knowledge excite me more than it embarrassed me? Why couldn’t I get his husky voice out of my head? Maybe because, that was what my Dream Jameson had sounded like, when he was ordering me to ride him harder. Maybe because I hadn’t been so attracted to a man ever.