Page 79 of Wolf of Ashes
Without second-guessing myself, I step toward the shower, pulling my soot-smudged shirt up over my head and unclasping my bra, dropping both pieces of clothing to the floor. I pause to take off my long pants and my underpants, leaving myself entirely naked.
More naked than he is.
He becomes very still when my clothing meets the floor, his gaze running the length of my braid to my feet, skimming across my breasts, waist, and pelvis.
The heat in his eyes grows.
Right before I reach the shower, I pause again. This time to reach for soap and a small washcloth.
Holding one in each hand, I return to the shower. “I’m here to wash your back.”
Dark light grows in his eyes, the edges of his mouth have relaxed, and his focus intensifies. “As you like.”
He steps back into the spray, dousing himself in liquid before he emerges again, turns his back on me, and plants his hands on the tiles at the side of the shower.
I step right up to him, my left foot nudging up against the outer edge of his left foot, so close that my inner calf brushes the outside of his left leg. If I slipped farther to the side, I could straddle his leg, but for now, I make do with leaning my lower half lightly against him, skin brushing skin.
He casts a slow glance back at me while I take my time soaping up the washcloth.
The water and suds drip down my arm when I press the material to his back, starting with his left shoulder. Sweeping the cloth along the hard ridges, I follow the curve of his muscles to his spine and down to his lower back in long, slow strokes.
His muscles glisten with soapy suds. The gentle steam wafts around us as I work the cloth back up to his neck and across to his other side.
When I stretch out to reach his other shoulder, my breasts press up against his left side.
His breathing has increased. His hands press harder against the tiles. But he doesn’t otherwise move.
I allow my body to press against him for another heartbeat before I plant my left hand on the side of his chest, my fingers splaying through the slippery suds, separating and closing.
I lean right into him as I finally reach across to his other shoulder, pulling the cloth all the way down his back to the top of his underpants.
I sense his muscles tense, as if he’s about to move, and that’s when I remove my leg, breaking the contact between us and slipping behind him.
Wrapping the soap up in the towel, I drop it to the shower floor on his right side, where he can see that I’ve abandoned it.
My hands close around his sides at his lower back and I sway against him, my breasts colliding with his back while my fingers slide all the way up to his shoulder blades and down again. As if I’m washing him with my hands now. Then back up again, traveling to his neck until my fingers disappear into his hair.
Still, he doesn’t make a move, but I sense that the tension in his muscles is nearing a breaking point.
He’ll move soon, and when he does, I’ll need to be prepared.
Slipping my hands down his sides, I dare to dance my fingertips around to his front, my right palm riding up his chest while my left makes it as far down as the top edge of his underpants.
He moves fast.
Spinning and pulling me hard up against his chest, he sweeps my legs around his hips and pushes me high up against the shower wall. His hand is cupping the back of my head. Not only cushioning it but controlling it.
Now, we’re face to face. My body wrapped around him. My hands on his shoulders.
In the space of turning, he has transformed and I’m looking into the eyes of his darker self, the one with the black hair and deep-blue eyes who, despite his greater leanness, seems as physically strong as his bulkier form.
His lips hover near mine, the perfect curve of them a promise of tantalizing sensations if they were to touch mine.
Despite his restraint in kissing me, his dark eyes rage at me like a storm.
“Undo your braid,” he says.
I’m surprised by his request, and I’m not afraid to show it, but my lips part in a soft smile. “No.”
