Page 67 of Crushing Clover

“Conditioner?”

“Yeah, conditioner. Are you familiar with the concept?”

“I know what conditioner is. I wasn’t expecting there to be any in your bathroom.”

He snorted. “Do I strike you as the type of man who uses two-in-one?”

I could feel his body heat, and his naked proximity was so unexpected I felt myself blushing.

Dammit, Clover—why are you freaking out about the possibility of some accidental skin-to-skin contact in the shower?

“Don’t worry. You’re not as irresistible as you seem to think.”

With the tips of my ears burning, I pumped a handful of what seem to be body wash into my hand.

Saint grabbed my hand again and rinsed the glistening puddle from my palm. It had seemed like the wrong consistency, but he had me all flustered.

“Maybe read a bottle first or ask for what you need?” he said tightly. “You don’t need lube in here—not with me.”

Oh god. Was that really what I’d grabbed? I took a better look at the bottle, and sure enough, that’s what it was.

“Who the fuck keeps lube in the shower?”

“People who use lube in the fucking shower.” He sounded exasperated.

Right.

He put my hand under a different spigot and pumped a substance into my palm. “This is body wash. I assume that’s what you were looking for.”

I scrubbed at myself, trying not to pay attention to the large, naked man in the shower with me, but it wasn’t the kind of space that made it possible to ignore him. The two of us moved aroundeach other in brooding silence. Why had he made me come in here if he didn’t want me in here?

The man was confusing and impossible.

We bumped into each other more than once, and I could sense his growing animosity at my back. What was I supposed to do?

“You’re doing that on purpose!” he growled in my ear. I couldn’t help but shiver at the intensity in his voice, even though the man irritated the hell out of me. I might even say that I hated him, but hate was a strong word, and I’d had people do far worse to me than his brand of offhanded bullying. At least with him, it didn’t feel personal—it still felt like it was about Arabella.

“Doing what on purpose?” I asked sharply. I shouldn’t be mouthing off, but it was hard not to react to his perpetual bad mood. The two of us went together like orange juice and toothpaste.

“Stopped acting innocent. I know what you’re after.”

“What on earth are you talking about? I’m trying to hurry up and get clean, which is what people normally do in showers.”

“Sliding your hands all over your body like that—I know you’re unbearably attracted to me, but please try to contain yourself. It’s so embarrassing for you.”

Angrily, I whirled on him. He had turned his back to me, and it was unfortunately beautiful with its wet sheen. I couldn’t deny he was attractive, but if he thought I was throwing myself at him or trying to be seductive, he was completely delusional.

“I don’t have a washcloth in here, so the only thing I can wash with is my hands. Do you have a different suggestion?”

My gaze slid down his back to his narrow waist and hips, to his hot ass—muscular, with the dents on the sides that made me feel too warm in the steamy enclosure.

He snapped his head around and caught me staring at his ass. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

“Just because you’re good to look at doesn’t mean I want anything else from you. I prefer my partners to have a personality. You don’t meet the basic criteria for humanity, so you have no reason to worry about your virtue, where I’m concerned.”

I turned away from him to rinse off and as water began to sluice down my body again, he grabbed me by the back of the neck and pushed me face first against the impeccably clean tiles. The porcelain was smooth against my cheek.

“What the fuck are you doing? Let me go!”

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