Page 125 of Unloved

There’s a creak of metal on metal and I uncover my eyes on instinct. Ro pokes her head out around the colorful shower curtain, curls piled high on her head, a few wet and stuck to the back of her long neck.

Hazel eyes inspect me until I’m aware of what I just did. What the hell was I thinking? I don’t—

“Matt,” she breathes, eyes softening. “Of course I like you. There’s no part of you I wouldn’t like.”

Wanna bet?That same voice that sounds too much like my voice mixed with my father’s.

White teeth nibble on her bottom lip as we lock gazes in the steamy, humid room.

“Will you kiss me?”

“What?” I nearly stumble, planting my feet a little wider so I don’t make more of a fool of myself than I already have.

A touch of insecurity sinks into her features, her hand gripping the curtain a little harder like she might slam it closed and tell me toget the hell out.“You said I only had to ask you—”

I don’t let her finish, straining toward her and planting my hand on the wall beside the shower, my other hand holding her neck as I kiss her. She tastes like candy and summer, warm, lips wet from the shower as I drink from her mouth.

My tongue pushes between her lips, the noise she makes sending shivers down my spine. She pushes back just as excitedly. Ro kisses like an overeager teenager, like she’s just discovered French kissing. It ignites something in me, something that makes every touch feel likemyfirst time.

Special.

I pull back, smiling with heaving breaths. She matches me, until we are both doe-eyed messes gazing at each other.

“Come in, Matty,” she says before ducking her head back into the shower. My breath catches. She doesn’t—

“You don’t have to,” she calls over the sound of the spray. “But I want you.”

I want you.

It feels like I’m undressing for the first time, chucking my sweatshirt and shirt into a pile in the corner before pulling my pants off too hastily, having to catch my balance using the wall.

For a moment I debate if I should take my underwear off, which is ridiculous. No one showers in underwear.They do whenthey don’t wanna pressure the girl in the shower.But she’s naked already—

Fuck. Rosalie Shariff is naked. And wet. In a shower, waiting for me to join her.

I don’t think, just pull back the curtain and step into the tight space.

I’m greeted by the long, bare line of her spine, golden tan skin from head to toe, and I swallow my tongue as my gaze tracks down, down, down to her small, pert ass. She’s tall, delicate, and so beautiful I can’t stop flicking my eyes over her because I don’t know where to look first.

She looks over her shoulder, down my body, before—

“Why are you wearing underwear?”

What?

Oh— Fuck. I am, though now the gray fabric of my boxer briefs is stuck to my skin, damp from the warm, wet air.

She turns, but brings her arms up over her chest, covering herself.

“Shit.”

I scramble, my hand swiping at the wet tile as I reach and shuck off my boxers, tangling them around my feet until I can kick them off, tossing them out onto the bathroom floor.

Ro inhales sharply as she takes me in.

I match her, both of us staring openly, admiring each other.

Her brain, her kindness—that’s why I want her. But God, her body has me ready to drop to my knees and stay there, staring at her like a work of art, never getting my fill.

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