I shook my head. “Uh uh. No way. We are allowed to have our fun this weekend, but that’s that. Got any shampoo?”
“Wait a minute.” He caught me around the waist as I tried to reach past him to the bench where his arsenal of hair products was lined up. “You’re not even going to let me return the favor? Like a good friend would?”
“You can wash my hair. How’s that?”
His face fell. “It’s not licking your pussy but I guess it will have to do. For now.” Shooting me a look that said later would be another story, he picked up a bottle of shampoo. “OK. Turn around.”
I loved getting my hair washed. Sometimes I made blow-out appointments at the salon just for the mesmerizing, swoony feeling I got when someone else massaged my scalp, rubbed the suds through my hair, rinsed it with warm water, and then cool. I was half in love with the gay stylists’ assistant at my salon just for the way he made me feel during the shampoo. As Nick’s fingers on my head sent chills down my spine, I closed my eyes and moaned softly.
Behind me, Nick laughed. “That good, huh?”
“Yes. I’m pretty much in heaven right now.”
“Me too. OK rinse.” I turned and rinsed, and when I opened my eyes, Nick was ready with the conditioner.
“Wow, the full treatment.”
He cocked a brow at me. “You want the full treatment? Because I’ll give you the full treatment.”
I rolled my eyes. “Nick. Focus.”
But when his hands started lathering my limbs with shower gel that smelled herbal and clean, the scent that I’d caught on his skin last night, my body responded sexually to the sensory overload. It was too much—Nick’s nakedness, his hands on me, the smell of summer and sex, the water streaming down our bodies, the taste of his kiss, the stroke of his tongue on mine…Before I knew it, I was sitting on the bench with my knees open, Nick’s tongue dancing over my clit, his fingers pinching my taut nipples.
“Oh my God!” I leaned back against the tile wall. “It feels so good—you’re just so good—you’re spoiling me.”
“I’m just trying to convince you never to leave my shower. And my strategy involves an orgasm.” Nick dropped soft kisses onto my inner thighs and the soft, wet warmth at my center before taking the swollen little bud in his mouth. Sucking softly at first, and then harder, making my toes point, and my fingers curl beneath my palms
“You’re doing…a good job…Fuck…Yes!” My head dropped back as the orgasm bloomed at my center and unfurled in rippling waves throughout my body. As my breathing slowed, Nick’s hands slid to my waist and he kissed one knee. “Was that a yes, you’ll be my shower prisoner?”
“Oh my God.” Sighing, I ran my hands through his hair. My fingers were totally pruning up. “It’s tempting, but I’d miss your cooking.”
He nodded. “I’d miss food too. OK, how about if you just stayed in my apartment all the time?” Helping me to my feet, he turned off the water before opening the door and reaching for a stack of huge, fluffy white towels on the sink.
I pretended to consider it as he handed me the first towel and reached for a second. “I don’t think so. I have to go to a wedding in two weeks. Mia would probably be angry if I skipped it in favor of sex.”
“Hmmm. That is a problem.” He dried himself off, stepped from the shower, and slung the towel low around his hips. Gah, that was hot—why was that so hot? Was it the way the towel hugged his ass? The way I could see the top of the V lines in front? The naked chest and arms? Whatever it was, I almost wavered in my resolve not to consider giving him another chance.
Almost.
“Sorry, babe. You asked for two days, I’m giving you two days.” Stepping onto the rug, I dried my arms and legs before wrapping the towel around my midsection. “I said no talking about the past, and no talking about the future, and I meant it.”
“You said no sex, too.” Nick gave me a meaningful look in the mirror.
I struggled to think up an answer that would absolve me of breaking my own rule. “I know, but… sex is different.”
“Different how?”
I bit my lip. How could I explain that somehow having sex was safer than talking? That offering myself emotionally would be far riskier than offering myself physically? That this whole arrangement was becoming problematic, because the more fun we had together, the more tempted I was to forgive him and try again? But I couldn’t tell if he was just playing me with all the sweet gestures and stay-with-me stuff. The last time I trusted him, he’d crushed me.
When I spoke, my tone was harsher than I intended. “It just is. I’m sure you’re used to getting exactly what you want from people these days, but I can’t offer you anything more than this. Take it or leave it.”
I went to walk out of the bathroom, but he grabbed my arm. “Hey. Don’t get mad. I’ll take it, OK?” Then the asshole lifted my hand to his lips and kissed the back of it. “I’ll take it.”
We dressed in silence. I chose one of my sundresses, gray cotton eyelet with a full skirt and camisole straps, while Nick put on jeans and a red t- shirt. While he frosted the cake downstairs, I blew out my hair and put it up into a ponytail since I wanted to take my convertible. I went light on the makeup and repacked everything I’d taken out of my suitcase. Sinking down on the bed to buckle my red sandals, I looked around, wondering if it was the last time I’d ever see this bedroom. It seemed likely, unless I reconsidered my position, which I wasn’t prepared to do. Running my hand over the spread, I wondered who the next girl would be to sleep in this bed. The thought hit me like a jab to the gut.