Page 56 of The New Guy
While I’m over here trying to play it cool. Like this isn’t a big deal—showering with the cute single dad with magic hands and a smile that breaks me in half.
I’m not trying to hide how much I like him. And I already admitted that I can’t stop thinking about him. And that sex with him isn’t meaningless.
But it would be nice if I didn’t come off like a complete dork, even if I’m jumping up and down inside.
I pump some body wash into my hand and rub it gratuitously all over his chest.
He reaches for the bottle and helps himself to a squirt, which he reaches around to rub on my back.
I make an unbidden happy noise. The intimacy is so rare for me. I’ve never showered with a lover before. Not once. Since Colorado, my sex life has been an infrequent series of unsatisfying one-night stands.
Gavin steps closer, soaping the back of my neck, and I use that as a flimsy excuse to lean in and kiss him on the jaw. I just want to spend the rest of the night like this—his hands on my body, the taste of his skin on my tongue.
He doesn’t seem to mind, either. He runs those slick palms down my back until he has two handfuls of my ass. Then he aligns our bodies so he can kiss me for real.
Now we’re lazily making out. Well, Gavin’s kisses are patient and slow. But mine are increasingly needy. I press him up against the tiles, and when his cock begins to harden against my belly, I reach for the body wash and slick my palm with it.
He groans when I begin to stroke him. “You are a good time, Hudson Newgate.”
“Not a compliment that I usually hear.”
He leans his forehead on my shoulder and thrusts into my hand. “They’re wrong,” he mutters. “Dead wrong.”
It’s a lucky thing that he can’t even see how big I’m smiling.
* * *
We don’t leave the shower until we’re both waterlogged and spent.
I grab a big towel and wrap it around his trim hips. “Want a soda?”
He lifts tired eyes to mine. “Wait—Mr. Low Carb drinkssoda?”
“Not commercial soda,” I scoff. “I’m not a degenerate. I make my own plain soda, with a splash of fruit juice.”
“Oh. Well, yeah. I’d better sample that. For quality control.”
“Hop in the bed. I’ll bring it to you.”
Clearly I’m a genius, because five minutes later I’ve got Gavin in my bed, reclining naked against the headboard. And I’m next to him, my hand on his knee, drinking pineapple-ginger soda.
Except he’s a little quiet. “Are you okay?” I have to ask.
“Yeah,” he says. “I really am. I just didn’t expect to end up here tonight.”
I clear my throat. “You don’t feel guilty, do you? You told me once before that you hadn’t, um, moved on.”
“You’re right—I hadn’t.” He rests his head back against the headboard. “But I don’t feel guilty about what we did. He wouldn’t want me to.”
“Glad to hear that.” It would crush me if he regretted this. And I’d feel like a heel for enjoying it so much.
“He’d hate me being alone. We even had this conversation once. It sounds morbid, but Eddie was a doctor, and he was a really practical person. He had a will, and life insurance, and he talked about this stuff more easily than most people.” He turns those gray eyes to me, but they’re a little sad. “So I know exactly how he’d feel about me spending the rest of my life alone out of some kind of misplaced duty to him. He’d kick my ass.”
“Maybe, but it’s still gotta be hard to process.”
“Sometimes.” He sets his glass on the nightstand, then puts his hand on top of mine, where it rests on his thigh. “But not so much tonight.”
I feel a flush of happiness. “I won’t lie—I really hope we get a chance to do this again. But I feel bad even asking for it. I don’t have a lot to give.”
