Page 89 of From This Moment (After We Fall 4)
“Is this a private party?”
“Not at all.”
He stepped into the tub, and I looked his perfect body over, head to foot. It felt strange to be naked in bright light with him. I was immediately conscious of all my flaws—the breasts that were no longer perky and full, the stretch marks on my stomach, the mummy tummy. I tried to hide behind my arms somehow, but he knew what I was doing.
“Stop it. You’re beautiful.”
“No, I’m not. I’m old and my body isn’t like what it used to be.”
“Well, guess what? I never knew your body then, so I’m not comparing, and I think it’s perfect. I’m older than you are, anyway.”
“That’s different.” I stepped aside so he could get wet. “Men aren’t judged as harshly as women are. You don’t have to deal with pregnancy and childbirth and all that.” I thought about the images I’d seen behind closed eyes last night, and my heart beat faster.
“Good thing there are no judges here.” He grabbed me and pulled me close, so the hot water streamed over both our bodies.
I rested my cheek on his chest as his arms came around me, wishing that pit in my stomach would just go away. This felt so good.
“Mmmm.” He sniffed my wet hair. “I love that smell.”
“You can use my shampoo if you want.”
“I don’t think it will have the same effect on me.”
I smiled. “You never know. Want me to wash your hair?”
“Definitely.”
I washed his hair, laughing when he kept grabbing my sudsy hands to smell them, and soaped him up with my body wash. He inhaled deeply. “Oh my God, I’m going to smell like one of your desserts. What is this stuff?” He grabbed the tube from my hand. “Marshmallow Pumpkin Latte? Are you kidding me?”
“I thought you liked it.” I smiled as I lathered up his pecs and abs and—
“Hold on a minute.” He circled my wrists with his fingers. “I’m not sure my dick is supposed to smell like a marshmallow. Marshmallows are soft and small.”
“But you’re not,” I said, wriggling free and taking his cock in my hands. Forgetting all about why I didn’t want to have sex this morning, I let his hardening flesh slip through my fist.
He groaned. “Don’t you have anything more manly? Like Hot Steely Wood or something?”
I burst out laughing. “No, I’m sorry, I don’t.”
He squirted some body wash into his hands. “I get to do you now.”
“But I’m not done,” I said coquettishly, batting my lashes at him as I worked my hands up and down his thickening shaft.
“Take a break.” He switched places with me. “Or there’s going to be a marshmallow pumpkin explosion in here.”
“I don’t mind.” But I let him lather me up, enjoying the sensual, slippery feel of his hands on my skin and the scent of the steam clouding around us as we rinsed off. Another little world all to ourselves. If only we never had to leave.
Maybe I could lose this anxious feeling by distracting myself from it. “So I have a few minutes before I have to get dressed.”
“Oh yeah?” His eyes darkened a little as he watched me rinse off.
Five minutes later, I was braced against the wall as Wes drove into me from behind, my legs still weak from the orgasm he’d just given me with his fingertips, my gasps echoing off the tiles. His hands gripped my hips, his fingers digging into my skin. He was rougher with me than Drew, and I liked it. It made me feel strong and sexy that I could take it. Yes, yes, this is what I needed.
He pulled out before he came, and I turned around to watch him finish himself off. It was so fucking hot, watching him come all over his hand, his abs flexing, the muscles in his arms taut. I could barely breathe.
But as the glow faded, the unease crept back in. I tried to brush it off. It’s the weather. It’s the worry that Lenore will catch him coming in. It’s the decision we made to leave separately. But as I watched him run out to the garage through the rain, I could not shake the feeling that something bad was going to happen. That I’d made a mistake somewhere along the way. That we were on borrowed time.
What I really needed was a sign, I decided on the way to work. I needed some indication from the universe that I was doing things right. That I wasn’t fucking up my life, or more importantly, the life of my daughter. If I could just see a sign or two, I’d feel better. Nothing big, nothing drastic, just something to let me know everything was going to be okay.
