Page 89 of I'm Your Guy
The hot pulse of him against my palm is everything I’ve always needed. I’m kissing his hair and whispering sloppy words of praise as he sags against me.
He lets out one more huff of satisfaction and then relaxes against my shoulder. I clamp an arm around his back, hoping he won’t go anywhere soon.
I’m a little in awe of everything we just did. And I already know I won’t regret it.
We lie there quietly for a few moments, while I try to get my bearings.
“Jersey?” His voice is muffled. “We need a shower.”
“I suppose that’s true.” Although I’d stay here all night if he’d let me.
“One more request?” he asks.
“Hit me.”
He lifts his handsome face, and his expression is so serious that I feel a tremor of worry. “Don’t get any spooge on the new couch, okay?”
I laugh. “Sure thing. But that’s the least of my issues tonight.”
He rubs his knuckles against my cheek. “I know. That’s why you should let me take care of the little details—so this place will still be perfect when your mom gets here.”
The mention of her makes my whole body sag.
“Hey, have some faith, okay? Just a little bit. I’ll keep you company until you hear some more news. Unless you’d rather go to sleep.”
I wrap my arms around him. “Let’s have that shower. I doubt I’m getting any sleep tonight.”
He lifts his blue eyes to mine and gives me a cocky smile. “Sure you will. I’ll tire you out if I have to. Now come on.” He rises to his feet and offers me a hand.
I take it, grab my phone off the coffee table, and then I follow him up the stairs.
Naturally, I admire his bare ass as he walks. He strides into my bathroom with confidence, oblivious to the shock that’s still echoing through me. Carter is naked in my bathroom. And I’m allowed to stare.
He turns on the spray, testing the temperature with his hand. After a moment, he steps inside.
I check my phone just to make sure my sister didn’t text. She did, and the message says: Go to bed, Tommy. I’ll call you after six.
Figures.
“Aren’t you coming?” Carter asks from the shower.
“Uh, yup.” Except I don’t really know how this part works. Blazing attraction and horny desperation carried me through the last half hour with Carter, as I ticked off a long list of first experiences.
But this—the intimacy of hanging out afterwards—seems more complicated.
“Tommaso? Plenty of room in here. Your bathroom rocks.”
“Right. Coming.” I open the glass door and step into the steamy space.
His wet hair has darkened to a chestnut color, and his body gleams under the spray. Already, I feel blood rushing southward again.
“Let’s get you clean,” he says easily. He pumps some body wash into his palm and then runs his hands all over my chest. “Ah, the abs of glory. I can’t believe you’re even real.”
I feel very real, though, as I help myself to some of the body wash.
Strangely, I feel more naked than I did downstairs. Now that lust isn’t drowning out all other sensations, I’m clumsy, but not so clumsy that I can’t skim my hands over every available inch of Carter’s sleek body.
He leans back against the tile wall, his face out of the spray, and blinks up at me. “You good?”
