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“You might have to loosen your hold a little,” he says as he reaches for the washcloth.
I pout, but I give him an inch.
He lifts the cloth to my face and presses lightly, trying to remove the mask. I try not to laugh, and his eyes narrow. “Why are you laughing?”
“I’m not,” I argue.
“You are, on the inside,” he says, still not pressing the cloth hard enough.
I place my hand over his and apply some pressure. “You need to press harder.”
He nods and removes my mask. His expression is full of care as he completes his task and my heart swells. This moment is nothing like I imagined. Instead of the horror I felt at the thought of him seeing me in this state, I now feel cherished. In this moment, Luke has shown me more care than any guy I’ve ever been with.
After he finishes, he eyes my hair. “Turn around and I’ll rinse the dye out.”
“Mmmm, I like it when bossy Luke comes out to play,” I say as I turn around.
I expect him to remove the cling wrap from my hair. Instead, his arm circles my waist, and he pulls me back so our bodies press together. Pressing his erection against me, he growls into my ear, “Do you really think you’ve already met bossy Luke?”
I shudder.
Oh, God, I need bossy Luke in my life.
Before I can reply, he reaches up and takes the cling wrap off my hair. He then slides a hand over my shoulder and down my front to rest against my chest. His other hand glides along my collarbone to grip my throat. He then moves it up my neck so he can tilt my head back into the water.
“Close your eyes,” he orders.
I do as I’m told and he proceeds to wash the dye from my hair. I never thought the act of hair washing could be so sensual, but Luke creates his own sexual art. His hand resting against my chest slides down to cup my breast, and he massages me the whole time he rinses my hair. Every now and then, he circles his hips and grinds his erection against me. And with my head resting against his shoulder, he takes the opportunity to kiss my neck as often as he can.
I decide to dye my hair every week. At least once a week, if not more. And I’ll invite Luke over to wash it out. The man has skills.
When he’s finished, he spins me around. His hands cup my face, and he kisses me as if he can’t get enough from me. I feel the same way.
“You need to condition my hair now,” I say after his lips leave mine.
“Would that be before or after I spend some time on your body?” He’s asking this question as if there’s even a choice.
I grip his biceps to steady myself because at the rate he’s going, my legs may give way. “I’ll let you decide.”
His hands move down to hold my throat. His thumbs circle the skin where they meet in the middle. I listen as his breaths come faster, matching mine.
Time stretches out; a long, desperate moment where two people begin to shed their skin and come together.
Finally.
Completely.
Absolutely.
His eyes hold mine for that moment until eventually he looks down to watch as he traces both my breasts. His gaze then trails his hands as they slowly make their way down my body. Every inch of my skin is memorised on his journey. By the time he’s kneeling in front of me, every nerve ending has been lit with a scorching want that I need him to take care of.
His hands glide up my legs and push them apart. He looks up and finds my eyes, holding them as he leans forward to run his tongue over my clit. My hand shoots out to lean against the tiled wall. The intense shot of pleasure he delivers almost causes me to lose my balance.
His eyes never leave mine.
Always watching.
Seeing.
