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His smile could light up the New York skyline.
“How about a shower?”
“As long as you wash me,” I say with a grin.
He slips out of me and offers me his hand. “You won’t be lifting a finger.”
I accept his hand, and we walk into the bathroom. All my dreams are coming true, and I’m not sure how to process how we got here. But I’m also not going to question it because it’s all I’ve ever wanted.
Jude turns on the shower, putting his hand under the stream to make sure the water is warm enough. I slide into the small room that houses the toilet to pee and clean myself up.
When I come out, he’s got two plush towels on the counter, and he’s holding my brand of shampoo and conditioner. “You forgot them that time you stayed the weekend because the cottage was being exterminated.”
I wrap my arms around his neck while he slides his arms around me. He kisses my forehead.
“You worried me for a second,” I say.
“That I was some creep who bought your shampoo and beat off with it?” He chuckles.
I lightly smack his chest. “Ew. No, I thought they were another woman’s.”
“So, you’re saying I shouldn’t use your shampoo as lube?” His chest vibrates on my cheek.
“Can we stop now?”
“Maybe I wash my pubic hair with it? Guess you’ll find out when you go down on me.”
“Okay.” I slide out of his arms, but he tugs me back to him.
“You think you’re getting away now? Not a chance.”
I place my hand on his chest and kiss him on the cheek. “I’m cold.”
He opens his shower door for me, and I duck under his arm, stepping into the steam-filled space. He follows and shuts the door, allowing me to stand under the stream of water. The warmth feels so good on my skin, but it’s nowhere near the same as when Jude’s hands are on me.
He urges me to tip my head back, running his hand down my hair. “Turn around,” he says, his hands directing my hips.
With my back to him, I hear the squirt of the shampoo bottle, then his fingers are threading through my hair. He lathers my scalp, and I moan, tipping my head farther back, needy for more.
“I wish you would’ve told me when I came home from New York.” Now that I’m not in an orgasm haze, my mind can’t stop playing the what-if game. What if my mom hadn’t slipped? What if he’d said something sooner? Where would we be now if he’d told me back then? Would we already have kids of our own?
“You had your grandma’s passing and your mom’s health to deal with. I was scared. Hell, I’d be lying if I told you I’m not still scared.” His hands fall to my hips, and he circles me back so my hair is under the water. “Time to rinse.”
“Scared of what?”
He doesn’t answer, concentrating on getting the shampoo out of my hair.
“Jude?”
“Do you remember when my mom died?”
How could I ever forget? It was a dark cloud over the entire town. My mom cried all the time.
“Yeah.”
“Do you remember coming to the cemetery… when I cried?”
“That’s when you started being nicer to me.”
