Page 89 of Word to the Wise

She leans forward and taps me on the leg with the book. “I never said you were dense.”

I hum as she sets the book on the ledge by the tub, watching me.

“This tub is ridiculous.” She waves her arms out.

“Well yeah, it has to fit a giant.” I grin, and she bursts out laughing at me calling myself that.

“Well…” Her eyes move from my face down my chest, pausing at where I’m already getting hard because it doesn’t take much more than this girl’s attention to do that. “There’s room for one more.”

“Is that an invitation?”

She shrugs her shoulder, biting her lip. And I reach to strip off my T-shirt.

I’ve never been shy about my body, but I’ve also never really thought much about it either. I’m tall—but in a way that’s more inconvenient than anything. And when it comes to my size below the belt, it’s only ever been a problem for most girls. Because it’s a lot, and I get it.

But Reed is determined and fiery. She sees a challenge, and she meets it. Every. Fucking. Time.

With all my clothes stripped off, she doesn’t shy away from staring at my cock while I climb into the tub.

“See something you like?” I call her out on it, loving that her cheeks get extra pink with my question.

“As a matter of fact.” She leans forward to stroke me, but I stop her. “What?”

I spin my finger in the air. “Turn.”

Reluctantly, she turns around in the tub, and I grab her shoulders to pull her between my legs. Her bare ass presses against my cock and does nothing to help with the fact that I feel like I’m going to explode. But I bury it down and reach for her hair.

She giggles when I fight with the elastic band. Until it finally snaps, smacking me in the chest as her hair tumbles around her shoulders.

“That was very graceful.” She laughs, tipping her head back so I can wet her hair.

“Didn’t you hear? I’m a graceful giant.”

“I’m sure you are.”

I can’t see her face, but I can imagine her rolling her eyes. Her pretend annoyance is one of my favorite things. She’s been carrying this weight around for years, so anytime I can lift it off her—make her laugh or make her think I’m ridiculous—it’s worth it.

Wetting her hair more, I grab the shampoo and lather it.

Reed sinks her back flush against my chest as I do, relaxing against me. Her breathing steadies as my fingers massage her scalp.

“That feels good.” She moans as I run my hands down her hair, washing it thoroughly.

I’ve never washed a girl’s hair.

I’ve never spent long enough with one to even know about all the products they put in it. If Reed is the standard, there’s all sorts of crap that goes into her silky waves. Conditioner, mousse… something in a tiny bottle that she says makes it extra shiny.

Who fucking knows.

I’ll memorize them all, just in case she needs me to pick something up at the store.

She’s got me thinking about things I always said I never would.

Flowers.

White dresses.

I can’t figure out how Carter dated her for six years and never got down on a knee for her? I’d spend every day on my fucking knees if she’s let me.

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