Page 28 of Property of Chux

He doesn’t give a response to my comment, instead he gets us back on track. “You want the shower first?”

I raise a brow. “What, you think I stink?”

He smirks. “I think you’ve had a rough night.”

I hesitate, then nod. “Yeah, okay.”

We clean up the kitchen from breakfast silently. There is a knock and Riot drops a bag of clothes for me. Well, I guess it’s time to shower. I’ve never lived in a studio and this set up leaves me feeling so exposed. The only privacy is the small closet style space hiding the toilet. In there is literally only enough room for a toilet and sink.

Damian moves to the other side of the small space, pulling out a fresh towel and handing it to me. The bathroom area is a little more than my walk-in closet, the shower barely big enough to turn around in, but it’s clean. The entire space is impeccably clean. I step inside, turning on the water. It takes a second before it warms, and I let out a small sigh when the heat finally hits me.

I glance over my shoulder. Damian is still there, watching me. There is nowhere to go, to hide. I try to keep my back to him, but I need to wash my hair.

I don’t.

The air between us changes.

It’s thick now, charged.

I step into the water, letting it cascade over me before feeling brave. In my head, I tell myselfyou only live once, Ally.I can feel his gaze on me, the heat of it more intense than the spray. I should feel exposed. Maybe I do, but not in the way I expect.Turning to face him, my every curve on display, I keep my eyes closed.

Slowly I blink, his eyes meet mine. He’s standing in the doorway, still as stone, his hands clenched into fists.

“You joining me or just gonna stare?” I ask, my voice softer than I mean for it to be.

For a second, I think he’s going to walk away. But then he steps forward, reaching for the waist of his sweats.

It’s slow. Deliberate.

When he drops them taking his boxers down in the same swoop, my breath catches. He’s all hard lines and muscle, scars tracing along his ribs, his shoulder, a story written in old wounds covered in ink.

Then nothing but bare skin.

His long, hard, thick, length juts out proudly between us as water splashes out onto the floor while I wait for him to join me.

He steps into the shower, his body crowding mine. The water runs between us, but I can feel the heat radiating from him. His eyes are locked onto mine, his hands braced on either side of the small stall, caging me in without touching me.

My heart is pounding.

His fingers move first, brushing a strand of wet hair from my face. His touch is surprisingly gentle for a man who looks like he could break me in half.

Then, slowly, he leans in.

His lips brush mine, just once.

A test. A question.

I answer by closing the distance, pressing my mouth to his.

The kiss is slow at first, but the second his hands find my waist, it deepens. His grip tightens, pulling me against him, water sliding between our bodies.

My fingers dig into his shoulders, nails biting into his skin as his tongue brushes mine. It’s a different kind of heat, the kindthat makes my head spin, that makes my body ache in ways I don’t have time to think about.

He groans against my mouth, the sound vibrating through me.

Then, just as fast as it started, he pulls back.

We’re both breathing hard, our bodies pressed together under the spray. His forehead rests against mine for a second, his hands still firm on my waist.

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