Page 36 of Dirty Love

His eyes pierce into me, seeing my resistance, my fear. He cups my cheek and holds my face in front of his, but he doesn’t kiss me again.

And then after a long, agonizing beat, he steps back and I slide off the counter.

The bathroom’s small and cramped with us both in here. I catch a glimpse of us in the mirror as I turn. He looks almost preppy compared to my bad girl get up. Black skinny jeans. Grey tank top over a black bra. Silver necklace, dark lipstick, heavy eye makeup. And he towers over me, a blond-haired and blue-eyed avenging angel. Blue jeans and a dress shirt rolled up to his elbows.

Unspoken angst hangs heavy, but apparently we’re going to ignore that. He pats my hip. “Get naked. I want to wash the night off you.”

“Shower sex? Hell yes.”

He laughs. “I’m going to give you a bath.”

Oh. That sends a weird thrill through my belly. Okay.

I take off my jewelry and tank top as he turns the taps to start the flow of hot water. He frowns at the tiny hotel toiletry bottles on the counter, then grabs the body wash and empties it into the tub.

I’ve just sat down on the toilet to take off my sandals when he turns back and kneels in front of me.

Wordlessly, he undoes the strap at my ankle. Then he takes the other foot and braces it against his thigh, releasing me from that sandal, too.

“Up.”

I stand, and he unbuttons my jeans. His fingers graze my tattoo and I shiver. The trembling gets stronger as he leans in and kisses my belly.

“Shhh…” He works my jeans down my legs, his palms skimming my flesh and raising goosebumps everywhere he touches.

The tub is almost full now. He turns me around, facing it, and takes off my bra, leaving me naked and ready to be cleaned.

“Hair up?”

I shake my head. It’s not what I’d usually use, but the hotel conditioner will be fine, and I want to wash the day off every inch of my body.

“In you get.” He holds my hand until I’m stretched out beneath the bubbles.

I take a deep breath, then slide under the water, getting my hair wet. I use my fingers to scrub my scalp before I surface, an when I do, Wilson’s still crouched beside the tub.

A half-smile transforms his face. “Feel good?”

“Yeah.”

“Can I wash your hair?”

I don’t use regular shampoo—I pay way too much for my hair to look this good to risk it to the crap they normally put in that stuff—but hotel conditioner is fine, and I tell him just to use that. I add a pleased little smile at the end so he knows I’m appreciative.

He stands up easily and twists to grab the conditioner bottle. He’s a big guy, and seems bigger still when he’s fully dressed and I’m naked in the tub.

The fatigue that had hung over me when I arrived is gone now. Heat blooms inside me as I greedily look at his legs, the tight curve of his ass, his narrow hips. I’ve done a lot of kinky shit in my time, but nobody has ever given me a bath before.

It’s almost cute, but I don’t do cute.

So when he turns around, I’m waiting for him, kneeling in the tub, my legs spread wide, everything from my hips up displayed for him above the water.

I’m at exactly the right level to see his erection swell behind the fly of his jeans. I take my time dragging my attention up to his face, and when I get there, his gaze is hot.

Scalding, really.

“This can only be tonight,” I say.

We both know he doesn’t accept that. But he bites his lower lip and rakes his gaze over my body. “Then I better make it good enough for you change your mind.”

---