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I turn around toward the tub and lean over the side to turn the faucet on. My backside tingles in anticipation of his hand.
“I give good backrubs too,” I go on. Water pours out of the faucet. I grab a bottle of shampoo and squeeze it over the stream.
Then I turn back to him. I don’t notice my nipples are sticking out until his eyes move over them. I cover them with my hands, blushing.
Barrett’s dick is long and hard and pointed upward, toward his navel. My God, it’s huge—and perfectly proportioned. Right in line with the rest of him, I guess.
He blinks down at himself, then locks his gaze on mine. “You sure you want a bath?” He lifts an eyebrow.
I smile sweetly. “Yep. I love a good, long bubble bath. You’re going to love it too. If you’re still horny when we get out, I’ll blow you.”
His eyes widen. He groans. “Goddamn, Gwenna.”
I beam as I grab two towels off a shelf and set them on the side of the garden tub. “My Myers-Briggs shadow personality is decisive and authoritative. I tend to go shadow when it’s sex time.”
Barrett screws his face up like he thinks I’m nuts, but a smile blooms a second later, complete with dimples. He lets out a hoarse laugh. “What the fuck?”
I wiggle my brows. “You laugh now, but you’ll respect it. I can guess your type, too—easy.”
I really think a bath will do us good, so I climb into the garden tub and scoot back, giving him the front seat, where it’s warmer and he can be ogled. Barrett leans over, slides his hands under my arms, and shifts me gently forward. I watch over my shoulder as he eases his big body behind mine. There’s nowhere for his legs to go except around my hips and over mine. As he settles, I feel a warm throb in between my legs. I hope my momentary abstinence makes him feel cared for. In fact, I vow to make it happen.
I look down at his legs, warm and heavy around mine. They’re bent slightly at the knee, his soles pressed up against the front wall of the tub. The garden tub is big, but Barrett’s bigger. His legs are beautiful: muscular and thick, but also elegantly hewn. I take some soap and run it down his strong, hair-dusted calves. Barrett groans.
“I told you I was good at baths.”
His toes curl as I massage his calves. He lifts one leg and makes a choking sound. “That tickles.”
I can’t see his face, but I can hear the smile in his voice. My chest loosens just a little more.
“Doe
s it?” I look behind me, sporting a cat-that-ate-the-canary grin. I run the soap over his knee and up this thigh, and like a man, he lets me move on up as his eyes darken and the bubbles gather around his still-hard dick. When I can tell he thinks he knows my next move, I dig my hand into his thigh and tickle.
He moves so fast, the water sloshes, drawing his legs up hilariously around himself and wrapping his arms around him. I cackle at his crazy hair and wide eyes. I feint, going for his thighs although from this angle, I know I can’t get him. I’m just teasing, waiting for him to come back at me with his ninja skills. Finally he grabs my arms, lowers his legs, and drags me onto his lap. There, with just the briefest hesitation while he looks into my eyes, he kisses me.
It’s our first kiss since his nightmare, and it feels especially slow and sweet. He pulls gently away, a little smirk on his lips.
“You’re a dirty fighter,” he says in a low voice.
His eyes are warm enough to make my stomach clench.
“It’s the only way to win.” I laugh. “You’re too advanced for me.”
“I thought you had your shadow personality.” He smirks again, and like so many times before, his mouth loses its self-control control and break into a gorgeous smile. His smile is beautiful. I want to ask him why he’s so reserved with it. Instead I smile back, then splash him.
“Only sometimes. Your Myers-Briggs is INTJ, BTW. That’s INTJ by the way, for those of you hiding under desert rocks.” I wink.
“What does that mean? INTJ?”
“I’ll show you when we get out, although I have to warn you, as an INTJ, I doubt it will mean much to you. I don’t think your kind puts much stock in things like this.”
I turn around to make the bath water hotter, and I hear him snort behind me. I take some shampoo and pool it in my palm and hold my palm under the water to make more bubbles. My eyes wander down to his feet—and of course, I can’t resist touching them.
I run the back of my fingers over the top of his left one. “You have really pretty feet.”
They’re arched slightly, the balls of them pressed against the front wall of the tub. I squeeze one.
He makes a low purring sound. “Weakness.”
