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“I thought—” He shakes his head instead of finishing his sentence.
“Thought what?” I prod, not wanting him to feel like he can’t be completely open and honest with me.
“I thought you’d always top.”
“I’m verse,” I whisper in his ear, my front against his back, my hand trailing over his naked hip. “I love all of it. Giving. Taking.”
A shudder runs through his body that echoes in mine.
“That’s probably a conversation we should’ve had before things got this far.” I grip his length, relishing the pulse in it. “But I’m guessing this means we’re compatible?”
Alex leans his head back, resting it on my shoulder. I use the opportunity provided to nip his neck.
“You like it?” I tease. “Are you thinking about me inside of you or getting lost thinking about sliding this big cock of yours inside of me?”
He groans, his hips jutting forward as I continue to stroke him.
“Maybe a little of both?”
His breath hitches, his thighs growing stiff, and I release him, pulling a groan of frustration from his lips.
“Not yet,” I say, stepping around him to turn on the water.
His fingers trail over my ass, shooting cold chills from that very spot until they reach the top of my head. This man is so damned dangerous, but I just can’t seem to heed any of the warnings.
We spend the next hour in the shower. Even after I get on my knees, his warning of not being able to come proved false very quickly, we kiss and touch, letting our hands explore each other.
It’s a level of intimacy I don’t know that I’ve ever achieved with anyone before.
Our fingers look like prunes, our body temperatures higher from being under the hot water for so long as we towel off.
It’s a good thing he can’t seem to take his eyes off me, because I’m not able to manage to look away from him.
Everything is sexy about this man—from the way his hair sticks out all over the place after he towel dries it, to the way he gathers his junk in the towel.
He takes considerably longer to dry himself than I do, but the time spent watching him seems like a reward.
“Really?” I ask when he begins the process of drying between each of his toes. “Are you stalling?”
He looks up at me, his face half-smile, half-confusion.
“By getting dry?”
“You’re telling me you dry between your toes after every shower?”
He stands to his full height, satisfied that his feet are dry.
“You don’t? Have you ever had athlete’s foot?”
I cringe. “Talking about athlete’s foot isn’t sexy.”
“What’s not sexy is nearly losing a toe from infection.”
My eyes dart down to my own feet, my fingers itching to grab my towel. “I’ve never had it.”
I sure as hell don’t want it either.
“I saw so many gross things in the Corps. I’m not willing to risk it.”
I nod in understanding. I imagine he saw more than rotten feet, but I’m not going to ask about his time in the service. I know that there’s a likelihood of PTSD with military service. It’s as prevalent as suffering from it after escaping a traumatic relationship like I did.
We step out of the bathroom, our arms brushing due to the confined space.
“Can you stay?” I ask as he bends to gather up his discarded clothing.
He doesn’t hesitate to leave them in the pile we created before heading to the bathroom over an hour ago.
“It’s not a king,” I say, feeling like a fake adult as I glance over at the full-sized bed.
What would he think if it were still the twin it was when I first moved in?
I’m surprised when Alex reaches for my hand, a tiny grin on his face. “I guess we’ll just have to stay extra close.”
He’s different from how he was that first night in the hotel. I don’t register any stiffness in his muscles as he situates himself half on my chest, half on the bed.
His breath is warm on my skin, a smile wide across my face as we settle.
He lifts his head, catching me smiling, but he doesn’t call me out on it. He simply lifts his mouth to mine before dropping his head back down to my chest and falling asleep.
Chapter 27
Boomer
I’d be worried about waking up in an empty bed in a strange place if Drake’s apartment wasn’t so small.
It’s one room besides the bathroom, meaning it doesn’t take but a slight shift of my eyes to see his naked back as he stands in the small kitchenette area about twenty feet away.
The man is absolutely exquisite, his trim back muscles working as he holds a coffee pot under the faucet.
The very distinct tan line at his waist tells me he spends time outside, and I have to shove down the hint of jealousy that threatens at thinking of others seeing him without a shirt. The possessiveness is something new for me, but I’m not going to waste what limited time I have with the man on worrying about it. I’ll save it for when the guilt he spoke of last night sinks in. I’m just glad it hasn’t had time to settle into my bones just yet. I wouldn’t want our first morning together to be spent that way.
