I pushed open the shower door, not caring that water splashed onto the outdated bathroom tile. I held out my hand and teased, "You know you want to."
"Yeah, but…" Her words trailed off as she studied my outstretched hand.
With the shower door open, I could see her face clearly now. Her eyes were bright, and her lips were parted. Her hair was long and loose, and she was wearing jeans and some sort of flannel overshirt. The shirt was open to reveal a thin gray tank top underneath.
No bra? That was my guess. But hey, I'd be finding out soon enough.
Silently, I waited, letting my outstretched hand do all the talking.
With a breathless laugh, she finally said, "Okay. Yes. I mean, hang on. I'll get undressed."
I shook my head. "I've got a better idea."
"Really? What's that?"
I grabbed her hand and gave it a gentle tug. "Get in with your clothes on."
Her breath hitched. "But they'll get all wet."
I grinned. "I know."
She laughed. "But you're not wearing any clothes. It doesn't seem fair."
"I know," I repeated. "But fair's for pussies. And trust me." I lowered my voice. "When I get done with you, you won't be complaining."
Chapter 43
Arden
Oh, boy.
Was I really going to do this?
He was wet and naked.
I was dry and clothed. No. That wasn't quite true. I was wearing clothes alright, but deep inside, I was soaking wet. Even now, I could feel the proof of my arousal dampening my panties to the point of embarrassment.
Or at least, I should've been embarrassed.
This wasn't me.
I didn't even like him. He was impossible. Cocky. Stubborn. He'd been my arch-enemy for years, ever since high school.
But he was also the sexiest thing I'd ever seen. And, from the looks of him now, I wasn't the only one caught up in the madness. By some fluke, he wanted me just as much as I wanted him.
If his hand on my wrist wasn't proof enough, his massive erection told me everything I needed to know.
I glanced down – not to his pelvis, but to my own hand, where his fingers encircled my wrist. In spite of his obvious interest, he'd made only that initial tug.
I knew what this meant. It was up to me if I really wanted to join him.
I bit my lip. Did I?
Oh, please. Who was I kidding?
There was no way on Earth I'd say "no" now. And the reason for this was achingly simple. I didn't want to.
My pulse jumped, and my breath caught. Slowly, I looked up to study his face. His hair was soaking wet, curling in dark tendrils over his forehead. His eyes were warm, and his lips were curved into a knowing smile.
He knew exactly what I was going to do.
The cocky bastard.
My breath hitched as I gave a single nod. "Okay."
Talk about a massive understatement.
With a wicked grin, he yanked me closer. My feet barely hit the tile floor as he practically dragged me into the shower and pulled the door shut behind us.
The space was narrow, and my clothes were already getting soaked. The shower was not meant for two people, even if I could totally see the appeal. With a breathless laugh, I asked, "Are you sure this is safe?"
His arms closed tightly around me, and he lowered his head to nuzzle my neck. Against my skin, he said, "Oh yeah."
His lips were warm and soft as his hands slid up my back, tugging at my flannel overshirt. Taking the hint, I let my arms fall loose, giving him the chance to remove the shirt all the way.
Without skipping a beat, he yanked the shirt free of my arms and let it fall onto the wet shower floor. One of his hands returned to my back, while the other went straight for the button of my already-damp jeans.
By now, I was practically panting. And yet I still felt compelled to ask, "Are you sure?"
With a smile in his voice, he said it again. "Oh yeah."
I laughed. "I meant about the shower. Like, it's not gonna break or anything is it?"
"It doesn't matter," he said, giving me the sweetest nibble on my earlobe. "We're replacing it next week."
Already, I could hardly think. But at least one of us had to keep our wits about us, right? I gasped, "But what about the floor? I mean, we don't want to fall through or anything."
With a low laugh, he said, "Trust me. We're fine."
I felt fine, that's for sure.
Already, he'd unzipped my jeans and was now tugging them down past my hips. As he did, I used my own feet to frantically work at my wet sneakers, trying to nudge them off without stooping to use my hands.
I actually managed to do it, too, stepping out of my shoes just as Brody used first his hand, and then one of his bare feet to shove my jeans first past my knees and then all the way down to the shower floor.
On raw instinct, I stepped out of the damp mess, leaving my socks lost somewhere in the denim fabric.
I was now wearing only my panties and a gray cotton tank top – no bra, because the tank top was tight enough to serve as an undershirt and as support for the girls, if you know what I mean.
And speaking of support, I recalled all too well that the house still had its share of issues. I just had to say, "You do know what you're doing, right?"
With that same smile in his voice, he replied, "What do you think?" As he said it, he reached between us and took one of my hard, wet nipples between his fingers. Through the thin cotton of my tank top, he rolled and teased the nub, making me groan in pure bliss.
And still, I somehow managed to say, "I meant about the floor. Like what if there's water damage
