Page 70 of The Boyfriend Experience

I picture what a bubble bath with Lawton Ayers might look like. Would he fuck me? Shampoo my hair? Would he finger me under the water as I sat between his legs and leaned back into his chest?

“Oaklee?”

“Huh?” I look over at him. He’s sitting on a bench near the entrance to my closet, pulling off his boots.

“Still with me?”

“I’m here. Just…” I blush a little. “Having a little fantasy about you and me in that bathtub, that’s all.”

He laughs. “We’ll get there.”

“I’m sure we will,” I say, stepping towards him as I reach around behind my back to unclasp my bra. He watches me intently as it comes free and slips down my arms to rest on the hard marble floor at my feet. I keep going. Because I want to be naked with this man. Right now. And wiggle my panties over my hips. Not so seductively that I look like a stripper up on a stage, but pretty close.

His mouth is open, his eyes fixed on my pussy as I reveal it, then step away from my discarded underclothes and turn to the shower. Giving him a nice, long look at my backside as I reach in and turn the water on.

He’s behind me then. Hands on my stomach, arms circling me as his fingers dip down between my legs and slip between the soft folds of skin to find me wet.

His lips caress my neck with kisses and I swear to God, I just melt back into him. My legs shake, my back arches, and when I turn my head towards him, his lips are there.

How? How did this happen?

“Stop thinking, Oaklee.” It’s like he’s reading my mind.

“I’m not objecting,” I say, trying to explain.

“Doesn’t matter. There’s time to think later. Now will never happen again so let’s just enjoy it.”

I don’t know if that’s sad or romantic. A little of both, I think, because—

“Oaklee,” he whispers, playing with my clit.

“Oh, God,” I moan.

“Stop. Thinking.”

He urges me to step into the shower, the spray of the water hitting me like a hot jungle mist. A moment later he’s pressing a bar of sweet-smelling lavender-colored soap along my arm, while fingering me with his other hand at the same time.

We both step under the water, letting it fall down our bodies—making it slick where we have contact. My back against his chest. His arm down the length of my stomach. The soap lather fills the bathroom with the scent of lilacs.

I close my eyes. Be present. Pay attention to all the little details that I don’t want to forget. The way his finger feels inside me. The steam flowing up towards the ceiling. The hardness of his cock pressing against my ass and the way his breath catches in the same moment as mine.

I turn to face him because I can’t stop myself. “I want to see you,” I say, taking his face in my hands. His eyes are brown. So brown. I don’t think I’ve ever noticed them before. They have flecks of black in them. And rings of green that I never noticed before. His cheeks and jaw are shadowed with today’s stubble. Just enough to be scratchy. Just enough to be sexy.

His neck is thick with muscle, but not out of proportion with his tall frame. His hair is dark, the water changing the brown to a near-black. It looks longer now too. Messier. Less suit and more leather jacket. One thick strand has fallen onto his forehead, curling a bit at the end. And that chin dimple appears, pierces my heart with an arrow, and then disappears just as quick.

“I like you too,” he says. Because he knows what’s going through my head.

He knows me. Somehow, he does.

He sees into me—through me.

His finger withdraws from inside me and his hand rests on my shoulder, urging me to turn. So I’m standing under the water and he’s a step away from it.

I feel exposed for some reason.

He is just as naked as I am, but the way he looks at me. With that hunger inside him. Silent, introspective, unmovable.

It makes me shudder even though the water spraying down my back is slightly too hot.