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“Mmm,” he said, the sound a knowing purr that had my skin rippling all over again. “Anticipating my touch, then.”
I’d already been too vulnerable tonight. Too needy. As much as, yes, I wanted him to touch me more, I wouldn’t admit it.
The water blasted my face when I stepped forward, swiping at my eyes when I glanced over my shoulder to scowl. “Give me the soap.”
“No.”
My stare turned squinty, teeth snapping together.
I reached for the bar still in his hand.
He held it over my head.
“You aren’t that much taller than me,” I told him, then added in Swedish, “Jubelidiot.”
Complete idiot.
“So mean to me, angel,” Win mused, still holding the soap above us both. “You want it? Come get it.”
I launched myself at him, using his shoulders for leverage as I leaped, locking my muscular thighs around his waist as I scrambled up his defined chest.
With a half laugh, half grunt, he stumbled back, one arm locking around me as the other flung out to keep us from landing in a heap. His back hit the tile, and I instinctively reached up to cup the back of his head to keep him from hitting it.
The shower spray seemed louder once we went still, chests pressed together with my legs still tight around his waist. Waterdrops clung to his eyelashes, our faces so close I saw the flecks of green and gold in his gaze.
He was mesmerizing like this, and for a moment, I forgot about everything and felt only him, saw only him. My fingers tightened at the back of his head as mine lowered, eyes still ensnared by his. The tip of his tongue darted out, swiping at his lower lip, anticipating my kiss as I drew closer and closer, his breath becoming mine…
I snatched the soap out of his hand and pulled back, dropping back to my feet in front of him.
It took him a minute to recover, blinking a couple times to clear the hazy desire he’d been drunk on. I held up the bar, waving it a little in triumph before turning away to wash.
The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end when he came forward, my body so aware of his that he felt like an extension of me. I refused to look despite the way my stomach quivered and my heart pounded. Instead, I rubbed the soap over my pec in a circular motion.
His chest fit along my back, and one of his thighs pushed between mine.
“Give me the soap, Lars.” The throaty growl made my fingers tremble and my toes curl into the wet floor.
Unable to breathe, I held it up, and he reached for it, making sure to touch as much of me as he could.
“Duktig pojke,” he rasped, teeth scraping over the back of my shoulder.
I whimpered, my knees going weak.Good boy.
“Where did you learn that?” I demanded with a pathetically shaky voice.
“You think I wouldn’t learn how to praise my angel in his preferred tongue?” he asked, lips caressing the back of my neck.
I whimpered again.
The bar of soap was cold when he first pressed it against my upper back, but as it lathered, the chill went away and my vision started to blur as I stared ahead at the white tile.
The soap was slightly gritty, the light scrape over my skin setting my nerves on fire and making me crave. I’d just had him in the car, but I already felt like it had been days.
His hand followed the curve of my back, pressing into the way it slightly dipped just above my ass. Suds slid over my cheeks, catching in my crack as his hands fanned out over my hips as they traveled to the front of my body.
I swayed on my feet, drunk from stimulation, mind buzzing. Win’s soapy hands moved up, washing my lower stomach, then tracing the contours of my abs. With a sigh, I leaned back into him as he widened his stance to support my weight.
My chest was lathered and bubbly when I started to slide down his body, literally melting toward the drain.
