Page 157 of A Dirty Business
I couldn’t wait for anything.
I peed. Washed my hands. Brushed my teeth. And looked around, waiting for that water to warm up. There were no towels. Jesus. Where’d all the towels go?
But the shower was still going. Was it ready?
I exhaled a deep breath. I needed to get my stuff together.
“Hey.” Trace had come up behind me. He placed a hand on my back, and it soothed me, just through that touch. Some of his calmness seeped in. He leaned around me, tested the water, and moved the knob until it was a good temperature. As he waited, he stayed behind me, moving in so his body was touching mine.
I breathed him in, needing some of whatever he had that seemed to center me.
“Okay.” His voice was husky. “It’s ready.”
I nodded before taking my clothes off, but I was moving slower now. More languid. The need to “escape” wasn’t overtaking me so much. Trace helped me remove my tank top and my underwear, and as I stepped into the shower, his eyes were laughing.
I didn’t pull the curtain closed, stepping under the water spray.
He leaned against the wall, folding his arms, and he watched me as I showered.
As I wet my hair. Shampooed my hair.
His gaze dipped low, moving up and down my body as I began rinsing the shampoo out, then applying some conditioner. After that, body wash, but he stepped in with me. His hands covered mine as I began to move the washcloth over my body, the body wash seeping out in bubbles.
No words were shared.
My whole body heated up, but I was still soothed at the same time.
I’d missed this from him.
I hadn’t realized that he did this to me. He made me feel okay. Protected. Loved. Just by being around me. I’d never gotten this from anyone before, and knew I wouldn’t again.
It was Trace for me. I wasn’t the type to open my heart for the next guy. There’d be no next guy. Trace got in, and that was an act of god by itself. As he began washing me, I reached for his boxer briefs and tuggedthem down. They dropped to the floor of the shower. He stepped out of them, but then his hands were circling me.
I was reaching for him.
His mouth found mine, and a few minutes later, he was pressing me against the wall and sliding inside of me. He held me as he pumped up into me. I held him back, our mouths tasting each other.
My mom would bitch about the water bill, but it was worth it.
Trace was worth it.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-ONE
JESS
The whole house was clean. I’d gone through every room. Every shelf. Items were cleaned out, expired items were emptied, and the containers went into a recycling bin. Trace helped me. His shirt was wet from sweat by that afternoon, clinging to his very muscular andveryripped back, and I was starting to lose motivation about what we were doing.
Remembering the feel of him in the shower this morning, last night.
God. It was worse than it was before. I was just starting to feel how much I loved him, but it was full blazing by that evening. He helped with everything. Not one word bitching about it. He didn’t ask for anything. He saw what I was doing and moved to assist me.
“Don’t you have big bad Mafia stuff to do today?” I asked at one point, sitting back on my heels, my knees on the floor. I’d taken to scrubbing the kitchen floor because the grime between the tiles wasn’t coming out. He’d come to the doorway, seen what I was doing, and dropped down to use a washcloth on the other side of the kitchen.
He spared me a glance. “If you think I’m going to leave you when you’re terrified about seeing your mother again, you really have no clue what love means to me.” He paused. “It means being at your side in days like these.”
“If Ashton needed you—”
“I’m here. Stop trying to decide if you like me being here or if you want to chase me off. I’m not going to get scared off.”
