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“I shouldn’t.”
“You should.”
“Drop it, Kate,” he groans, as if in pain.
“No, I won’t. If something’s wrong, just tell me.”
“You don’t want to know,” he argues.
“I do! Say it.”
He huffs out a choppy breath. “Fine, do you want to know what’s wrong? I was picturing you in the bathtub, naked and wet and all sudsy and now my pants are so tight they hurt.”
The words he said register, but not completely. It takes a full ten seconds or so to really catch my brain up on the fact Jensen is…hard. And thinking about me, in the bathtub. My mouth goes completely dry and my heart rate spikes, and it has nothing to do with the residual effects of my earlier panic attack.
“You’re… um… wow…”
That’s all I got.
“Yeah,” he says. “Now do you see why I didn’t want to say anything?” he huffs.
A blush burns up my neck and settles on my cheeks. “Well, I do apologize for causing you some… discomfort. That was not my intention when I mentioned a bath.”
Jensen is quiet for a few moments before whispering, “Do you remember the night your parents went out to that Save the Whales fundraiser at the museum? You gave me a key the day before at school. I told my mom I was headed to Garrett’s house to watch the football game, which is actually quite humorous because the Broncos don’t play on Saturday nights.
“Anyway, I went to your house and climbed up the stairs to the second floor. Where did I find you, Butterfly?”
I know exactly what memory he was talking about the moment he started his story, so it’s easy for me to answer his question. “You found me in the bathtub.”
“I did. You were naked and touching yourself.”
“Only because I knew you were about to step into the bathroom. I had been waiting for you.”
Jensen growls, a low noise that goes straight to my lady parts. “We…” he starts before clearing his throat. “We shouldn’t talk about this.”
I shake my head, agreeing. This is definitely not a trip down memory lane either one of us needs to be taking right now. “No, definitely not.” Saying it aloud doesn’t ebb the ache I suddenly feel between my thighs.
Jensen clears his throat again. “Good night, Kate.” The words come out all gravelly and hoarse.
“Good night, Jensen,” I whisper in a voice that doesn’t even sound like mine.
Then, I hang up, even though I don’t really want to, already knowing there’s only one man I’ll be thinking about when I touch myself in bed later tonight.
