Page 49 of Make Me Yours
For some reason, it feels like more.
I hesitate for half a second until he shifts again, unsteady and gripping the tile tighter.
That’s all it takes for me to make a decision, and I drag the thick jersey over my head, letting it fall to the marble floor with a dull thud. Then I pop the button of my jeans, pull the zipper down, and shove the denim over my hips until it pools around my ankles.
I kick the jeans aside and straighten.
The air in the room feels hotter now.
Thicker.
My skin prickles as I become painfully aware of the lace bra and matching panties I’m wearing.
When I glance up, Steele’s eyes are on me, tracking everymovement. There’s nothing teasing about his gaze. It’s not cocky or even smug.
Instead, it’s reverent.
The look alone sends a shiver skating down my spine. My pulse kicks into overdrive as I move toward the glass door.
With a lift of my chin, I pretend this is a completely normal situation. As if stepping into a shower half-dressed with my best friend, who also happens to be concussed and naked, isn’t a big deal at all.
Heat envelops me, caressing my limbs like a physical touch. Part of it is from the steam, but most of it comes from the way Steele is looking at me.
His nostrils flare and his Adam’s apple bobs with a hard swallow.
That’s all it takes for my pulse to thunder in response.
Not wanting to overthink the situation, I grab the shampoo bottle and squeeze a generous amount into my palm before stepping closer. His height forces me to rise onto my toes as I slide my fingers through his damp hair. The moment my nails gently graze his scalp, he exhales. It’s a low, guttural sound that coils in my stomach.
He tilts his head forward, giving me better access, as I carefully massage the shampoo through his thick hair.
My touch is light but deliberate.
“Tell me if I’m hurting you,” I whisper, trying to focus on the task at hand.
“You’re not,” he murmurs. “It feels good.”
The tension between us is thick, almost tactile, like steam and desire have blurred into the same thing.
Without warning, Steele leans forward and lowers his head until it rests on my shoulder. My body goes still for a beat as his full weight sinks against me, his broad chest flush with mine, skin slick and burning hot from the water.
And suddenly, I’m holding him.
The sensation is overwhelming. The warmth of his exhale ghosts across my collarbone, and there’s a subtle tremor in his muscles as I massage his scalp.
Every part of me is screaming to either back away or pull him closer.
But I can’t move.
More than that, I don’t want to.
The fabric of my bra and panties is already clinging to me, almost translucent now. I’m not technically naked, but I might as well be. Steele’s hands stay carefully at his sides.
Until they don’t.
His fingers twitch against my hip. Barely there, but I feel it like a searing, unspoken promise.
He sighs, deeper this time, the sound resonating through him and into me. My fingers falter slightly in his hair before continuing, because if I stop, I don’t know what will happen next.
