Page 35 of Yours Truly, Fall

“How would you do it?”

The water splashes around my ankles, already soaking the rolls refusing to stay up in the humidity of this stall. “The shower is typically open. At the hospital, I wouldn’t be stepping inside and closing a door.”

“You’re not claustrophobic, are you?”

“No. I’m good.” Checking my own temperature on the situation, I’m oddly okay, like we do this all the time. “How could anyone be claustrophobic in this shower? You have two heads, tons of jets, and even a built-in bench. It’s so big. How are you?”

“Dandy. How do we do this?”

I take the shampoo. “Let’s start at the top. I’m going to need you to sit, though. You’re way too tall for me to reach up to wash your hair.”

He soaks his hair one more time before taking a seat and spreading his knees wide. Such a guy. Trying hard to take my mind off the fact that I’m about to wash Brandon Culver’s hair, and then his body, I can’t help but wonder at the irony. After all of these years of life without him in my personal space, I’m now purposely invading his. How did we even get here? The sputter of the shampoo sends it splattering into the palm of my hand. “Okay, we’re doing this.”

Chuckling, he says, “Let’s do it.”

I freeze, realizing I said that out loud. I really need to work on my silence filter. I move closer to him, rubbing my hands together, and dipping my fingers into his hair to get this job done and dusted. “Is this okay?”

He peeks up at me. “It’s okay. It feels good.”

His response encourages me to start massaging his head, increasing the lather and making it easier to glide through the hair. His eyes close, giving me seconds to look at him again. His lashes are darker, making me jealous that I have to wear two layers of mascara to cover the lighter ones I was born with to get the same effect. Tension slips from the tightened muscles of his shoulders, giving me a note of victory, which has me continuing to massage a little longer.

“Do you use conditioner?”

“I do.”

“Rinse and we’ll do that next.” I can’t say this is anything I’ve ever fantasized about, but it’s definitely not been a hardship either. I don’t want to think about how much I’m enjoying it. I get the conditioner and make the mistake of glancing over at him hanging his head back under the water as it pours down over his hair. The hard lines of his jaw are on full display, and the muscles in his neck are taut. Good lord have mercy. Best job ever.

“Autumn?”

Blinking a few times, I find his eyes. “Huh?”

His gaze runs my length once and then up again. “You’re soaked.”

“Ech!” I shift back, landing on the bench when I realize my pants are glued to my thighs, and my shirt clings to me. I exhale, releasing my frustration as I stand on more secure footing this time. “This is the last pair of scrubs. The other set is dirty.”

“Take them off.”

His playful tone has me peering up at him. “Get naked?”

Coming closer, he makes this shower feel a whole lot smaller. “That’s not what I meant, but I’m not opposed to the idea. You have seen me, after all.” He leans down, his eyes leveling with mine and stealing my breath right from my chest when he whispers, “I dare you.”

He always did love a dare from what I remember as a kid. But I don’t fall for dares, tricks of the mind, or games people play. I don’t have time for any of it. But what if I did? “It would be only fair.” It’s not like he’s never seen a woman in a swimsuit before. Technically, my bra and panties are no less fabric than a bikini.

Standing to his full height, he brushes against me, and whispers, “It would only be fair.” He returns to the tiled bench, leaving me with my mouth hanging open like a hooked fish. I’m hooked alright. Or maybe horny is more apropos. Why else would I be indulging in this? Playing along like there are no consequences?

A challenge is one thing, a dare another, but there’s the third, which is an outlier in this scenario. What if I want to take them off?

His eyes are set on mine as I pull the drawstring and push the pants down over my hips, exposing my wet skin. I keep dragging the fabric down until I can step out of them.

I pull my soaked top up and over my head and drop it with the pants to deal with later. My underwear are already too wet, and the thin material of the satin exposes everything underneath. I don’t hide. I lift my chin, even if it’s hard to do so.

His eyes travel over me like he’s on holiday with all the time in the world to sightsee. Brandon didn’t ask. He also didn’t expect me to do it, so why do I feel the need to take this a step further just because he challenged me? I’m losing credibility by the second.

I move back into the opening in the V of his legs he’s left me and squirt the conditioner straight on his head. While I rub the liquid into his hair, the heat of his eyes on my body grazes across my skin, becoming impossible to pretend this is normal and part of the job. I shift, accidentally brushing against his hand, but don’t pull away. That little touch shouldn’t be so potent, but it is, causing my breath to catch and me to run out of air before I can replenish. I look straight at him, and our gazes collide with intention and remain locked in a standoff. A little touch turns into his hand sliding along my hip as I caress his head and lower under his ears.

I don’t stop despite the war waging in my head. As I rub my thumb over his jaw, each sharp prick from his scruff commands long dormant parts of my body to awaken. It’s been so long, so long that I’ve been this close to someone. Denying my attraction is futile at this point.

Skin to skin, our gazes remain hooked together in a heated exchange while steam hangs in the air around us. A growing intensity reinforces a connection we shouldn’t be sharing. I know better, but before I can pull away, he reaches up to catch my wrist. “It’s okay,” he says, his voice competing with the sound of the water pummeling the floor behind us.