Page 47 of Switch

“I’m dirty,” I moan against his lips.

He smirks. “Yeah, you are.”

I push at his chest. “I’m serious, I need a shower.”

“Fuck, me too,” he mutters, lifting me again as he strides toward the bathroom.

When we reach the shower, he sets me down, and I turn on the water, steam filling the room almost instantly. Between kisses, we peel off our clothes, our bodies pressing together, heat building between us.

And as we step under the water, I realize I’m not scared anymore. Jax may be chaos. He may be unpredictable, messy, and stubborn as hell. But he’smine. And I’ll take every part of him, no matter how complicated it gets.

The warm water pours over us, steam curling around our bodies as Jax moves behind me, his chest pressed to my back. His hands are in my hair, fingers threading through the strands as he slowly works in my shampoo.

“You don’t have to do that,” I murmur, my eyes closing as he massages my scalp, his strong fingers working in slow, deliberate circles.

“I want to,” he says simply, his voice rough but steady.

I let out a soft sigh, melting under his touch. I wasn’t expecting this—this level of care, this quiet, intimate moment where he’s justhere, grounding me.

He tilts my head back slightly, guiding me under the spray, and the water runs through my hair, rinsing out the lather. His fingers continue working through the strands, making sure every last bit of shampoo is gone before reaching for my conditioner.

“You do this every time you shower?” he asks, spreading it through my hair from root to tip.

I smile, eyes still closed. “Yeah, why?”

He laughs, the vibration of his laughter rolling through my back. “Feels like a whole fucking process.”

I laugh softly. “Self-care, Jax. You should try it sometime.”

His lips press against the side of my neck, and his voice is a low rumble in my ear. “This count?”

A shiver runs through me despite the heat of the water. “Mmm, maybe.”

He turns me slowly, gripping the loofah and lathering it up with my body wash. The scent of vanilla and coconut fills the air as he starts at my collarbone, moving in slow circles over my skin. The rough texture of the loofah mixed with the warmth of his hands sends a ripple of awareness through me, and I let out a slow breath.

His gaze follows the path of his hands, focused, intense, like he’s memorizing every inch of me.

“You don’t have to do this either,” I murmur, my voice barely above a whisper.

He meets my eyes, his expression unreadable. “Iwantto,” he says again, his voice quieter this time. “You’re mine. Let me take care of you.”

I swallow hard, nodding once.

He kneels, dragging the loofah down my stomach, over my hips, down my thighs. His hands are steady, strong, and gentle in a way that makes my heart squeeze. He takes his time, working the soap over my legs and my calves, his fingers brushing along the sensitive skin behind my knees, making me moan.

He grins, pressing a kiss to my hip before standing again, sliding his hands around to my back, guiding the loofah over my shoulders, and down my spine. The muscles in my body loosen under his touch.

When he’s satisfied, he tosses the loofah onto the ledge and grabs the bar of soap, rubbing it between his palms before handing it to me.

I take the soap, stepping closer, dragging it over his chest, watching the water glide down the ridges of his muscles. His skinis warm under my hands, solid, unyielding. My fingers trace over his tattoos, the dark ink standing out against the bubbles.

His breath hitches slightly when I move lower, dragging the soap over his stomach, down to his hips. His muscles tense under my touch, and I smirk up at him as I stroke his hard cock.

“You good?” I tease.

His jaw ticks. “Youknowwhat you’re doing.”

I tilt my head innocently. “Just washing you, Jax.”

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