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One thing I haven’t been able to give up on in this emotional chaos is bubble baths. As little as it is, there’s nothing like soaking in a big tub of heat to melt away troubles, making you kind of forget where you’re at for a split second.
Although the bathroom isn’t anything fancy and the tub is a bit tight, I make it work. On day eight of living in close quarters, my anxiety is now bursting at the seams.
Just this morning, Jude woke up and walked out of his bedroom wearing only a thin pair of pants that hung perfectly off his hips…and he didn’t seem to care I noticed, but made sure to make a comment on how he figured I’d still be asleep.
And okay, so maybe I have been sleeping in…but still. He could do me the favor of being fully clothed every waking second. With a body like his, he knows what the hell he’s doing to me.He has to.
I wait outside of the bathroom, shifting from one foot to the other. Jude has been showering now for about twenty minutes.
He does have a lot to scrub, I remind myself, my mind quickly working to imagine it…his wet, thick skin…every swell and dip of his muscles.Oh my.
And when the door finally pulls open, my jaw drops. Jude is staring down at me, his hands tight on the towel wrapped around his waist.
“You alright?” he asks, sounding concerned.
He must’ve heard me tapping away out here. Attempting to not make it so obvious I was just daydreaming, I muster up a weak smile. “Yeah, all good. Was just waiting on you.”
He nods, then takes another look in the mirror before stepping aside, giving me room to shuffle in. As I pass him by, my eyes catch the water droplets slowly making their way down his chiseled chest, sliding into the dip of his abs.
My mouth is beginning to water and I squeeze the towel I’m carrying, hoping to calm down—which I do the second Jude walks away and I can shut the door, feeling the sticky tile from the steam still trapped in the room.
I start to strip, moving slowly as I’m stuck on this fantasy…or rather memory.
Those rough lips on me in his car…that kiss.Oh god. Why did it have to stop?
The way his mouth shattered over mine was demanding, different than anything I’ve ever experienced with Luca, who was always so invasive. But Jude…he’s all about teasing.
Lost in thought, I ghost my hands over my bare breasts, my nipples hard as ever. I shiver like crazy, finding it suddenly cold in here even though my body feels hot.Too hot.
Taking a long look in the mirror, I stare at my nearly bare body with my black thong on; the one I bought at a department store when Jude felt it wassafeenough for the both of us to duck out—he’s only found it that way a handful of times now.
My skin is flushed at the memory of his wide hand on my waist when we were out and walking around…how possessive he was over me.
I huff, turning on the shower, setting it to the hottest temp as I need to juststopwith the fantasies. Jude is only keeping me safe here, that’s it. If he wanted anything more, he would’ve made another move by now…I think.
A knock sounds at the door, dragging me out of my head.
“Yeah?” I call, instinctively grabbing my towel and holding it up to my chest.
Jude props the door open, only a shoulder and leg of his entering the room. “Sorry,” he says, voice muffled. “Forgot my shirt.”
It’s hanging from the towel rack. I reach out, my fingers meeting the soft thin material just as I turn toward him, only a foot of distance between us now.
But clumsy with desire, I drop the shirt. It sweeps down his leg, and he must’ve felt it as he opens the door further, bending to retrieve the soft thing. But his dark eyes rove upward, and it doesn’t matter I’m holding a towel to my chest…he can see everything else. Every inch of my bare skin—only a small black triangle of cloth hiding my center.
He slides his gaze up, our eyes locking.
And when he stands straight and pushes the door further open, my fingers tighten on my towel as I stare up at him, unsure of what he wants…or what he’s doing.
“Fuck it,” Jude growls and leans in, his lips crushing mine, his hands meeting the sides of my face and holding me still. I drown in his warmth, feeling his teeth drag over my bottom lip. Whimpering out softly, the intensity of our kiss knocks me off balance and I drop the towel, stumbling onto him; my hands bracing his hard chest as his palms relocate to my ass.
“God damn,” he growls, hefting handfuls of each cheek, giving the left one a slight slap that makes me yelp. “Sorry.”
But the smirk slowly winding across his face right now already negates that apology, but it’s not like that really matters. I don’t want him to be sorry.
The shower is still running behind us, the room slowly filling with steam. Jude grips my hips and turns me without warning, pressing me back against the bathroom cabinet. He glances over my shoulder, and I can tell he’s taking a look at our reflection in the mirror.
Barely giving an effort, he lifts me up onto the counter with ease. He leans in, kissing me, making me tremble at the way his body covers mine—literallyblocking out the ceiling light. I feel overwhelmed, shadowed…protected.
