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Whatever. I just wanna wrap around him all wet.
The door to our bathroom suite is closed. He’s funny like that, so private lately. Guess we’re easing back into this whole “free” thing.
The sound from the triple shower heads drowns out the door unlatching. He doesn’t hear me come in.
Steam clouds most of the view, but my heart stops—he’s so beautiful like that. Eyes closed. Head back. Shampoo suds rinsing from his long hair. The tattoo on his hip bone. Our tattoo. It’s discernible through the haze. I take a second, letting it sink in—me and Redix. Together again. Fully and finally fucking.
It’s natural.
It’s paradise.
I’m in love.
“Want some company?”
“FUCK!” His voice bombs the room, ricocheting off the tile and striking me with shock. “Fuck, Cade!” And anger. He backs against the tile. “You scared the fuck out of me.”
“I’m sorry.”
I really am. I’ve been known to strike and ask questions later when I’m surprised too. “I just thought we could—”
“Can I have some privacy?” He jams the shower lever, shutting down the water and my hopes. “I’ll be out in a second.”
“Privacy?”
Something’s off. I get having time to yourself in the bathroom, but this is a shower. And after he fucked my brains out last night, what is there to be private about?
“Why are you freaking out?” I step toward him. “It’s me—you know—your best friend whose pussy you fucked last night.”
“Yeah, well, knock next time. Or better yet, respect a closed door.”
“A closed door?” It’s all wrong. Something. “Redix.” I step to the shower threshold. “Why are you so mad? It’s just a fucking shower.”
“No.” He reaches beside me, yanking the towel off the bar. “It’s just fucking respect.”
His tug, it’s more like a rip so hard that he pulls the brass towel bar from the wall, clanking it to the floor.
“What the hell?” It lands by my foot.
He whips the towel around his waist. “Just leave, okay?”
His towel’s secured fast enough for him to insult me more by pointing toward the door.
“No, it’s not okay.”
I won’t move. My pulse is climbing with my anger. With more of his rejection. This makes no sense.
“Why are you acting like this? We go from the best sex of our lives to you not showering with me? What did I do wrong?”
“You didn’t respect my privacy.” He tries brushing by, but I block him. “Move, please.”
“No.”
How did this happen? From sleeping safely in his arms to waking up with the happiest smile to now a fight in the bathroom over a goddamn door knock?
“What are you hiding?”
It’s something. Guilt drips from his face.
