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He sticks his head out of the door, his face half-covered in shaving foam. “Shower’s hot.”
My eyebrows rise. “What?”
“Seems a shame to waste the water. Come on.” He disappears again.
He wants me to shower with him?
I think of that rock-hard body, his bulging biceps, all shiny from the water, and pull a pillow over my face. He’s trying to kill me. I’m literally going to die from lust.
“Poppy!” he yells.
“All right. Keep your panties on.” I get up, still grumbling, and go into the bathroom. Then I stop and stare at him. He’s standing in front of the mirror, naked, halfway through shaving. It’s such a masculine picture, I’m tempted to take a photo and turn it into a poster for my wall.
He glances at me as I enter and meets my eyes, the razor pausing on his cheek. “What?”
“Nothing.” I swallow and glance at the toilet. “I need to pee.”
“Don’t let me stop you.”
“I’m not peeing with you in the room.”
He laughs and draws the razor up his throat. “After what we’ve just done?”
“Marc!”
He sighs and rinses the razor. “Hold on a sec.” He finishes the last few strokes, splashes his face with cold water, and dries it on a towel as he goes out, giving me a wry look on the way.
I pee as quickly as I can, flush, then call him back in. He tosses the towel aside, takes my hand, and leads me into the shower cubicle. Ooh, it’s tiny. We have to squidge up together so he can close the door.
The hot water pours over us, and the cubicle is filled with steam. Marc dips his head beneath the spray, soaking his hair. The water runs down his neck and over his chest. His muscles look like polished wood that’s been out in the rain. He’s soooo sexy.
He runs a hand through his hair, drawing it back off his face.
“It needs cutting,” I tell him.
“I know. Can’t be arsed.” He turns so I’m under the shower. “Tip your head back.”
I do as he says, letting the water soak my hair. He tips some shampoo onto his hand, then sinks it into my hair and gently massages it, his fingers grazing my scalp. Mmm, that feels good.
“I love your hair,” he murmurs, smoothing his hands down the strands. “It’s such a beautiful color.”
“I hated it when I was younger,” I say. “Nobody else in my family is ginger, and I always stood out like a sore thumb.”
“Where does it come from, then? A grandparent?”
“Yes, Mom’s mom, apparently, although she’s gray now.”
“You don’t have any gray in yours,” he says, rinsing the suds out.
“I do. A few strands. I’m getting old.”
“Hardly,” he scoffs. “Conditioner?”
“Please.”
“Turn around.”
I turn so my back is to him, and he pours some on his hands and smooths it through my hair. While he does it, he bends and places a kiss on my shoulder. Then another on my neck. I sigh.
“Don’t worry,” he says. “I won’t do anything untoward.”
“It wasn’t a complaint.”
“Glad to hear it.” He reaches for the shower gel, pours some onto the puff, then places it on my shoulder. Slowly, he soaps me, washing down my back and over my hips. “Hands on the tiles,” he instructs.
I lift my hands and lean on the tiles in front of me. He washes around my waist and up to my breasts, using slow circles, although he avoids my nipples. It doesn’t matter though; it’s still sensual, still sexy. It’s the way he’s looking at me, I think, his gaze following his hands, studying and admiring. He makes me glow.
“Turn back,” he says eventually. I face him, and he proceeds to wash down me, sliding the puff between my legs with a sexy smile, then continuing down my thighs and calves before he straightens and hands me the puff. “Your turn.”
Ooh, I get a turn? First, I wash his hair, smiling as it curls around my fingers, then I pour some more shower gel onto the puff, place it on his chest, and start washing him. All across his pecs, down to his abs, my fingers following, tracing the line of his muscles. By the time I get to his crotch, he has a slight erection. He gives me a shrug that says, What are you gonna do? I chuckle and wash around it, then twirl my finger in the air to ask him to turn. He rotates and leans on the glass. Now I get to do his back. I wash across his broad shoulders, over his shoulder blades, and down his spine. And then I stop.
