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Then something catches my eyes. “Sem, what is that?” I grab onto his hips and turn him slightly.
An enormous red scrape runs across his right side. It looks like it hurts.
“Nothing. Just from the bike accident.”
“Jesus, Sem. How fast were you going to get literal road rash?” I ask, my eyes flashing up to meet his.
“Too fast.”
I arch an eyebrow, and he reaches behind me for the shampoo. “The hill was steep, and there were no brakes,” he explains, and I open my mouth to respond, but nothing comes out.
“Why were there no brakes?”
He shrugs. “It was Luke’s idea.” As if that explains anything.
He squirts way too much shampoo into my hair, but I don’t say anything, just let those big hands run through my hair. It’s all I can do not to moan at how his fingers massage my scalp. This isnothow I expected this day to end. And yet here I am. Isn’t that how it is with Sem? I end up doing the opposite of what I expect.
“Smells like…” he sniffs the air and shakes his head. “Smells like pie.”
“Pie?” I giggle and then hiss, “Shit. Soap in my eye!” I turn my entire body to blink rapidly under the water, rinsing it out the best I can. “Fuck, that stings!”
“You okay?” Sem asks, his hands spanning my entire waist, his thumbs rubbing gentle circles against my skin. I can feel his cock pressed against my ass cheeks, and I can’t help but press against it a little. Because apparently, my eyeball disintegrating doesn’t deter me from wanting to have a dick in my ass.
“I’ll be fine,” I say after a moment. I turn my head to look at him with my red eyes, and he frowns when he sees them.
“Sorry,” he says softly, and then he grabs the bar of soap and runs it along my stomach. “I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing here with you.”
“Me either,” I admit candidly as he lathers me up.
“You told me to leave, but I ended up in here with you instead.”
“Hey, that’s not my problem. You made that decision. No one forced you in here.”
“Nah, you have some weird-ass voodoo thing going on.”
“A voodoo thing going on?” I ask with a small laugh, looking over my shoulder at him. “What does that even mean?”
“It means I don’t do this shit. I don’t stand in showers and wash dudes with fruit-scented soap.” He brings the bar up and inhales. He wrinkles his nose and then goes back to washing me.
“And you don’t normally fuck guys either, do you? But seems like that’s all we’ve been doing when we see each other.”
“I’m not fucking you right now.”
I rinse off and then turn my body to face him. “No, we’re not. Because you got scared and were about to run away for some reason. Can’t quite figure out why. You seem fearless most of the time.”
Sem frowns as I duck under his arm and step out of the shower, pulling on the fluffy floral robe that I bought off Etsy last year. Bending down, I toss Sem a towel and watch as he slowly dries himself off.
“I wasn’t scared, I just…” he hisses when he rubs over the scrape on the side of his abdomen, and I wince. That had to hurt.
“Hold that thought. You need to put something on that. Did you even clean it after you got it?”
Sem glances down at it. “Ran some water over it. I think.”
“Oh my god,” I mutter and then reach under my sink for my first aid kit. “How you ever lived to be this age is amazing. Your poor mother.”
I pull out some gauze, cream, and a bottle of hydrogen peroxide. “Now, don’t move. I’m going to disinfect it, put some cream on it, and then bandage it up.”
Sem does as he’s told as I slowly clean his wound and bandage him up. He doesn’t even flinch when the hydrogen peroxide begins to bubble. Impressive.
