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“Many have tried, few have accomplished.” She looked down at herself. “I’m kind of sweaty, I might take another shower.”
Wine and a slow hot shower sounded nice, or maybe it was just her in the shower again that sounded nice, since we didn’t take our time this morning.
“Same.” I ground out.
“You first,” Bri blurted, completely killing my joy and ego all at once. I almost grabbed a steak knife, handed it to her, and begged her to just plunge it into my heart.
I sighed. “I won’t look if you won’t look, plus the shower’s huge and we’re adults, I mean we’ve already, you know.”
“Seen, felt, tasted, touched.”
I took a sip of wine at the wrong time and started choking. I hit my chest with my fist. “Yeah, same.”
“Wasn’t impressed.”
“Double same.” I laughed at our little white lies. Nothing had been more impressive than holding her in my arms, nothing.
We took our wine with us into the bathroom and it just happened, it wasn’t slow, I wasn’t even aware of it at first.
She took off her shirt. I helped her pull it over her head, while she unbuttoned my jeans like it was nothing, old habits died hard apparently. I reached for one of the rubber bands in the jar and motioned for her to turn, then I pulled her hair into a high ponytail.
She took another sip of wine and handed me mine while I shrugged out of my briefs, dropping them to the ground. She kicked them toward the door. We used to have our laundry room next to our tiny bathroom. Again, old habits died hard.
We were silent when we got into the shower, each of us probably lost in our own thoughts. I grabbed the brown loofah and started washing myself, then motioned for her to turn and ran it down her back, then teased her ass with it.
“Jackass.” She laughed over her shoulder. “Why do you have to do that every time?”
“Because it gives me attention every time,” I said without thinking. And it was true. It had always gotten a reaction out of her and I lived for her reactions. Because it meant she saw me, that she wasn’t going away. “Anyway, let’s get the front.”
She turned to face me while I ran the loofah between her breasts and then lower, I turned slightly to the left and handed over the loofah. “Y-you can finish.”
Bri didn’t take it, why wasn’t she taking it? “It’s fine. I’m comfortable, are you?”
“Totally. I’m comfortabler.” I lied and sounded like a five-year-old.
“Not a word.” She pointed out.
“It is. Look it up.” I argued and quickly washed up and down her legs, between, up past her navel, then quickly dropped it to the ground and turned around so she couldn’t see how she was affecting me.
Bri tapped me on the shoulder. “Ace?”
“Hmm?” I feigned ignorance and still didn’t turn around.
“Can you help me with something?” Oh, now she was using the voice. Unfair in so many ways that would take me a lifetime to explain.
“Stop using the voice, Bri.”
“Aceeeeee.”
“It’s not working.” It was totally working. It was a mixture between whining and sexy seductress that in a moment of drunken weakness, I confessed, turned me on.
You can’t give women a foothold, they’ll take two instead of one. She took like ten that day. Damn it.
I pressed a hand against the tile wall like that would somehow save me, maybe if I was Spiderman and I could crawl across the ceiling and do a badass back flip and land near the exit without embarrassing myself. “Hmm, no I think I am fresh out of help, can’t even help myself, need to probably take another half hour to wash the dirt out of my hair, but if you’re done?”
“Nope. I need help, and where did you get dirt? The windowsill from the pristinely clean meeting room?”
“They had plants—“
