Page 125 of Everything But Mine

Val told us it would help. Talking openly, touching without expectations. But I shake my head. “Touching you is never a task.”

I dip a washcloth in the soapy water once more and press it to the back of his neck. He closes his eyes at the contact. I wipe along his collarbone, down the slope of his chest, watching how his body responds to my care, leaning into me, as I wipe the sweat off his chest and arms.

“They looked like hell,” I murmur.

Eric nods, the water cools, and his skin ripples in goose bumps.

“Cassie is unraveling. If he doesn’t sign, and she’ll have to be around our⁠—”

He shifts, holding my hips until I’m sitting more comfortably.

“She won’t be around Beckett, no matter what.” He takes one of my legs and extends it over his lap. “Even if he doesn’t relinquish his rights, they won’t last.” He trails down my shin with his fingertip, right up the slope of my instep.

“Can you, please?” I flick my eyes to the razor behind him. “I can’t reach anymore.”

He nods, smiling, then lathers up my skin, thumbs digging into the soft part of my calves until suds form. He places the blade where my ankle meets my leg, and slides up with practiced firmness.

“He seemed… different with the baby.”

Eric slides the razor down the side of my shin, then up the calf again.

“Yes.” He strokes up and down my thigh with his hand. I have to bite the inside of my cheek so I don’t moan. It’s not easier when he switches to my other leg, blade against my instep before he shaves up. “I hear parenthood does that to you.” He repeats the motion, up and down, with care with his eyes trained on my skin, looking for any missed spots.

“It won’t do that to you.”

He sets the razor down and wipes my legs with the towel. “What do you mean?” He doesn’t take his hand off me.

“It won’t change how you show affection. Because you don’t care if or who is looking.”

“I don’t.” He leans forward and presses a kiss just above my knee.

I press the washcloth against the center of his tattoo, where all the knots intertwine. He shivers, and the water drips down on him.

“What’s a fantasy of yours?” I ask, holding his eye contact.

“A fantasy?” he repeats.

He strokes the outside of my thighs and watches my skin break out in goose bumps. When his eyes find mine again, there’s no way to hide from the heat in them.

“Honestly? Anything with you.” His voice softens, slows. “I obsess about anything I could have said, at any point these past few years. What would that have been so you’d straddle me, your legs caging my thighs? And tell me exactly what to do to make you fall apart with need for me?” His fingers brush over my knee, then graze the inside of my thigh.

I grab at his forearm, and hike my thigh over his, straddling him, the way he just described.

“And also…” He leans in, breath warm in my ear. “Everything beyond sex. That’s also my fantasy.”

I don’t mean to kiss him with this much impatience, but I do anyway. We grab at each other, chasing something that feels both overdue and rushed.

When I stand, Eric falls to his knees and presses a kiss to my stomach. His amber eyes are darker than usual, expectant as if I’m the one holding all the power here. But my want isn’t more important than his.

He follows me to the bedroom without letting go of my hand, then watches as I lie down. When he lies next to me without prompting, I curl into his chest and take deep breaths in sync with him. Slowing us down in case this isn’t the right moment. His breath is unsteady, his skin warm and damp from sweat and soap. I explore his chest, sometimes tentative with tips of my fingers, sometimes palming with more pressure.

“I like this,” I whisper.

“This?” he murmurs, eyes still closed.

“You. Letting me touch you.”

I run my fingers down the sides of his rib cage, and he swallows, goose bumps rising across his chest. I savor every ridge and valley, angle and curve. Then, my gaze lands on the bulge in the center of his pants, and I can’t look away.