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“Guy who owns the house. What? You don’t thinkIbought a house, do you?”
“I thought maybe you were renting it or something. The night I broke down you said you were taking care of it.”
I burst into laughter and catch him watching me do it. A smile tugs at my mouth no matter how hard I try to tamp it down.
“Are you in the mood for a shower?” I say. “Plenty of towels and stuff.”
“I don’t have anything to change into,” Diego says. “It’s okay. I don’t want to inconvenience you.”
“Dummy,” I say. “I’m asking if you’re in the mood for a showerwith me.”
I’ve never had to be this blunt with a guy before, but Diego’s eyebrows flicker up and down with surprise. He’s watching me closely, his eyes skating over my lips, then across my bare chest.
“Oh my God, come on,” I say, before he can torture us both by debating it any longer.
I slip out of bed, heedless of the fact I’m completely naked. It’s not like he didn’t see it all last night. I hurry around the bed and take Diego’s hand, tugging him from under the sheets. He joins me on my trek to the bathroom, and I flick on the shower. We scrub our teeth side-by-sidewhile the water heats up, then I fetch some towels and set them on the heated bar beside the shower (Albert really tricked this place out while he lived here), and Diego sets aside the glasses he just put back on.
The shower is large, but it feels far smaller when we both squeeze inside. The glass doors fog over from the steam, but there’s nothing to obscure my view once I get Diego under the spray. The water soaks his hair, turning it pitch black and sticking it to his forehead and cheeks. He tilts his head back and sweeps hair and water out of his face, and good God, it’s like something out of a shampoo commercial. He’s tan and gorgeous and soaking wet, and I get to look at all of him from mere inches away. I have to work very hard not to let my eyes go right to his dick, but fortunately there’s plenty else to drink in — like his pecs or his abs or the slight flex of his arms when he brushes his hair back.
With his hair out of the way, he opens his eyes and finds me watching him. I snap my mouth shut, but the damage is done. He caught me red-handed. The slightest of smiles pulls valiantly at his mouth, but he stuffs it away so quickly I question if it was ever there at all.
“Do you need the hot water?” he says.
I have to repeat the sentence in my head a couple times to figure out what it means. I’m not exactly functioning at maximum capacity while naked, wet Diego stands within touching distance.
“No. I mean, yes. Probably. Yeah. I should do that,” I say.
He laughs, one short little noise that doesn’t even pry his mouth open, and swaps spots with me. The swapping forces us to touch. Diego steadies me with his hands on my arms, and I almost give up the charade and throw him against the wall of the shower. The only thing that holds me back is my determination to prove to him that we can do this, that I’m not going to jump him at every opportunity. We can be normal. Well, as normal as two people sharing a shower can be. I don’t want to push the sex thing, though. I have a strong suspicion that if I do it’ll lend credence to all his worst fears.
The water soaks my hair to my neck and back. It reaches nearly to my waist when it’s loose and wet. I stand there wondering what I should do next, and Diego reaches for me, slipping a lock of wet hair through his hands.
“Turn around,” he says. “I’ll wash it.”
“Oh,” I say stupidly.
I turn around, facing the faucet, and Diego gets closer. There’s only three bottles in here: Shampoo, conditioner and body wash. He chooses the correct one, I presume, and then his hands are in my hair, working in the shampoo. His fingers are strong as they massage my scalp, and I tilt toward the feeling, not realizing for several seconds that he’s working in the shampoo far more than strictly necessary. He trails his fingers down, combing theshampoo through my hair, then comes back up, gently scratching my scalp.
I could let him do this all day, but eventually he drags his hands free, and I quickly wash out the shampoo so he can do the same with the conditioner. But by then the game is up. I turn toward him as soon as he stops working his fingers through my hair. Instead of rinsing out the conditioner, I pull him toward me, kissing him under the hot spray of the water.
I swear I wasn’t going to do anything but take a shower with him, but when he reaches for the body wash, my mind floods with all kinds of unhelpful ideas. And it seems Diego agrees. We start rubbing the body wash all over each other. Technically we’re getting cleaner, I suppose, but I’m not sure how much cleaner his chest is going to get from me squeezing it.
We’re slick and soaked. Diego’s hands wander down to my waist, pulling me toward him. He kisses me again, his lips lingering this time, and I can’t suppress or hide my reaction with both of us standing so close in the shower.
“Energetic this morning,” he murmurs.
“Yeah, I, uh, sorry about that.”
“Why?” Diego says. “You shouldn’t be. I like it.”
He reaches down to touch me, and my cock springs to full hardness. I cling to his shoulders as he starts stroking. When I tip my head back in pleasure, Diego’s mouth seeks my throat. He kisses and sucks as his hand works, and thisofficially becomes the best morning of my entire damn life.
It’s early. I’m worked up from last night. His hand feels fucking incredible. And in no time my voice is filling up the shower stall even more than the steam as I shove my hips at Diego’s firm hand. It’s so hard not to crumble against him, not to give him everything. He touches me with fascination, with devotion, like he wants nothing more than to lavish every inch of my body with attention and care. That feeling that he loves my body, loves what I look like, but still sees me for myself, is almost more enticing than the strong, insistent motion of his hand.
“Those sounds you make are going to drive me crazy,” Diego rasps against my neck.
That’s all I need. His encouragement urges me on. I dig my nails into his slick skin and let go of all that hesitation and caution I woke up with. Then I undo all that aimless scrubbing, making a mess of both of us all over again.
I slouch against the wall afterward, but even that feels like too much. In the end, I drop to my knees, not caring how close his cock is to my face when I start stroking him in response. Diego braces his hands on the shower wall above me, his body blocking the spray, and groans until he explodes, nearly hitting my face when he does.
