Page 44 of The Banker and the Blue Collar Man

“Come on now, you,” he teased in that way of his. Gentle. Not mean or cross. “Don’t make me the only one fully naked here.”

I undressed as swiftly as I could, putting my clothes in a neat pile so I could take them to the laundry in the staff building later. And watched as Dalton turned on the shower, holding me back with one hand while he tested the temperature with his open palm, shower spray coming up, dancing in his hair like small, scattered diamonds. Making me wait until he deemed the water perfect for me to enter, a gesture more foreign to me than I cared to admit.

“Okay,” he said at last. “We can get in now.”

And we got in, standing beneath the spray in that shower stall just big enough for two men.

I was tall. The showerhead was just high enough for me to duck under. Walter had hired a plumber to make it the right height for me; in days gone by, another gesture I was grateful for.

A small bottle of Bronner’s shampoo sat on a narrow ledge at the top of the shower, along with my razor and shaving foam. A half-used bar of Bronner’s soap in the soap tray. All unscented. A pile of worn washcloths on the ledge, behind the spray where they could stay dry.

Taking the soap and a washcloth in hand, Dalton washed me from head to toe. Behind my ears. Along my neck. Along my belly. Between my thighs, front and back. I stood there and let him, astonished but willing, oh so willing to feel his touch anywhere he cared to place it.

It was foolish to want so much. My cock was already half hard, and he washed that, too, easing it with slight friction from the cloth.

His smile was dappled with moisture. His eyelashes, when he flicked a glance at me, were laced with small, clear beads of water. More diamonds.

When I reached for a cloth and held out my hand for the soap, he said, “I’ve already showered. This is for you.”

“Can’t I wash something?” I asked.

This made him laugh. “You can wash your hair. Show me how you like it done for next time.”

There was to be a next time, then. I didn’t want to doubt it or worry about how long this would last, so I didn’t. Instead, I washed my hair as I usually did. Quarter-size dollop of liquid soap scrubbed through my wet hair. Two rinses. Done.

He rolled his eyes at me in a playful way. “No conditioner?” he asked.

I shook my head. That cost money, and I was saving. For truck repairs and winter tires. Buddy’s vet bills. And the someday dream of having a place of my own. Somewhere north of Snow Creek Ranch, maybe. A little place. Nothing fancy. Cattle. Horses. Maybe I could still work at the ranch for steady cash.

Another pipe dream. Another someday sigh.

Dalton took my hand, the one with the still-healing cut from the lariat, and kissed it. He turned off the water and stepped out, dripping on the floor as he found a towel to buff me down with. I found another and buffed him, and it became a battle of muscle. Wits. Leverage.

I won and tumbled him onto the bed. Then sat up, startling him as he looked up at me. “Did you buy it?” I asked.

“Buy what?” He flicked his eyelashes at me. Flirting. Daring my heart to dance at the sight of him.

“Do you want me to say it out loud?” I asked. He must have wanted that, his smile was that impish. “Fine, you sassy thing.” I bent close and whispered in his ear, “Did you get the lube?”

“Yes,” he said, lifting his chin for a quick kiss, which I gladly gave him before he got up long enough to find his pants and pull a bottle out of the pocket. “It’s only a small bottle. I bought other things, too. ChapStick. A comb. Stupid, but I wanted to hide what I was buying.”

“You avoided gossip, then,” I said. “Smart.” To reward him for this, I covered him with my body and kissed him good and hard and long. Just tongues and mouths, my chest heaving already, my breath and heartbeats catching up to my desire.

With a short laugh, he pulled his head away to take a breath, clasping my shoulders. Blinking.

“There’s a lot of light in here,” he said. “And also, who goes first? Shall you go first and fuck me? We can trade off. It’s your bed, so you can fuck me. I don’t know about my bed, though. Not much privacy. I share that bunkhouse with two teenagers who have more energy than I can ever remember having. They never sleep.” He huffed a laugh. “Sorry, I’m babbling. Just nervous, I guess.”

With a shake of my head, I touched his cheek before sweeping my hand through his fair hair, catching that cowlick in my fingers.

I didn’t want to rush any of this. I wanted to recapture the lovely electric peace of the cottonwood glade. And honestly, I wanted him to come back for more. I wanted him to sigh beneath my hands and look at me with that blue-eyed gaze and lift his chin for more kisses.

I was no virgin, and I figured he wasn’t, either. But I felt like one, nerves alight all over me. Fingers trembling as I touched his belly and raked my fingertips across his skin.

“The light?” he asked. “I’m not ashamed. It’s just so bright in my eyes.”

That made sense. I always turned off the light before I got into bed, my feet knowing the way in the dark. So I got up and flicked off the lights, then tumbled back into bed. I pulled him to me and sighed into his neck, then inhaled his scent.

“I’ll be gentle with you,” I whispered into his skin.