Chapter 27
Twenty-Seven
Louise
“Why is your shower so much better than mine?”
Standing beneath the spray of the shower head in Zach’s bathroom, I moan audibly at how incredible it feels.
“What do you mean?” he asks from the other side of the shower curtain. Peeking out around the fabric, I watch him for a moment in the mirror. He’s shaving the lower portion of his face, white shaving cream covering his neck and chin. He glances at me in the mirror and grins.
“Your water pressure is amazing.”
His brows draw together then. “I’ll come by and take a look.”
Rolling my eyes at him, I disappear back behind the curtain to finish washing my hair. “I think it’s just the shower head. This thing is incredible.”
The curtain opens and Zach pops his head in. “I’ll talk to the landlordand get a replacement.”
“You don’t have to do that. I can talk to the landlord myself, Zach.”
“I know that. But look at all that hair. You need a good shower head to rinse that properly.”
“It’s not necessary, but thank you.” I blow him a kiss from where I’m languishing beneath the warm spray. He grins, then disappears from sight again. Raising my hands to comb through the long strands with conditioner, I say, “I like it when you smile.”
“I thought you liked me grumpy.”
“I do like you grumpy. But I like it when you smile at me, too. It’s like a little glimpse behind the Wizard of Oz’s curtain.”
“I like seeing behind this curtain,” he drawls, dragging the shower curtain back again.
His face is clean of the shaving cream. Those blue eyes travel from my head to my pink painted toes and back, lingering heavily on the spot between my thighs, and higher to my breasts.
With my arms raised over my head, my breasts are practically begging for his attention.
He bites his lower lip before raising those eyes to mine.
I grin impishly, shimmying my upper body, making them sway. “Fuck, you’re so damn pretty, Louise.”
Turning, I give him my back, and he groans, low and guttural. Peeking at him over my shoulder, I smile teasingly.
“Do you do nothing but squats all day every day?” he asks, leaning his shoulder against the wall, still peering into the shower around the curtain, his attention on my ass, now.
He scrubs one hand down his freshly shaved face, cupping his palm over his mouth and chin, his gaze scorching.
“Jesus Christ, your ass is literally what my dreams are made of.”
I do another little shimmy and the sound that comes out of him is damn near feral. I laugh, winking at him.
“I really like seeing my handprint there, too, Princess.”
Looking at him over my shoulder again, I whisper, “I do, too.”
The residual heat of the spankings he’d administered last night linger, but it’s not painful. It’s like the sexiest reminder. A secret claiming that only he and I know about.
Zach adjusts himself behind the fly of his jeans and I grin again before turning to rinse the conditioner out of my hair. Our eyes never leave each other as I thoroughly rinse the product out of the long tresses, and then I turn the water off before wringing the excess water out of my hair.
Pulling the curtain open, Zach stands there with a towel ready, wrapping me in the largest, fluffiest towel I’ve ever seen as soon as I step out. He wraps the material around my shoulders, much like one would to a small child, and I grin up at him before rising on my tiptoes to kiss his mouth.
His hands slide over my shoulders, fingers gathering the wet strands of my hair and gently pulling it out of the towel draped around me like a cape.
He fans the long tresses down my back, his eyes roving over me entirely.
It’s intense and adoring and my delicate heart doesn’t know how to handle any of this.
“Can I brush it for you?” he asks quietly.
Taken aback by the request, I murmur, “Umm, yeah. Sure.”
He nods, just once, satisfied. God, he’s adorable.
“Get dressed so you don’t get chilled.”
“Yes, sir,” I grumble, rolling my eyes. His eyes narrow on mine, and I laugh. Whoops.
He’s already laid out a pair of his sweatpants and a navy-blue Petoskey Fire Department t-shirt on the bed for me. The weather turned chilly overnight, the temperatures dropping significantly, and we woke to frost glittering the grass.
“I have socks, if you want some to wear, too,” he says over his shoulder as I follow him out of the bathroom and down the short hallway to his bedroom.
“No, thank you.” I swing the towel from my shoulders and shiver, my nipples peaking rapidly.
“Are you the kind of girl that refuses to wear socks and then insists on putting your frozen toes against a man’s skin?” he asks, glaring at me from across the room.
Laughing, I shrug before pulling the t-shirt over my head. Holding the collar to my face, I inhale deeply. It smells like him. Cedar and sandalwood and smoke. Zach.
“I’m keeping this,” I warn him.
“Good.” He leans his hips against the dresser and crosses his arms over his chest. “I want you to have something of mine.”
“You mean other than your handprint on my ass?” I tease.
The devilish grin he sends me says enough. “The handprint is for me. The shirt is for you.”
Pulling the sweatpants up over my hips, I make a face at how snug they fit. How is it that men’s clothes always look massive until a woman puts them on her body, and it’s like they shrink five sizes in a matter of seconds?
I’ve never been little, and with an ass like a dump truck, pants have always been my nemesis.
Flipping my hair over my head, I wrap the towel around the back of my head and pat it dry the best I can. When I straighten, Zach takes the towel from me and disappears out the door. Back a moment later, he has a hairbrush in his hand.
“Sit on the corner of the bed, back to me.”
I do as he instructs, sitting cross legged on the corner of the mattress. Out of the corner of my eye, I see him raise the hairbrush, but he halts. I raise my chin, looking up and back at him. “What’s wrong?”
“Do you have a sensitive scalp?” he asks then, looking hesitant. “Chloe screams bloody murder when I brush her hair—”
Grabbing his hand in mine, I sink his fingers into my hair at the roots and curl them into my hair. Still looking up at him, I whisper, “Pull.”
His eyes darken on mine, and he does as I say, fisting his fingers tighter into my hair before pulling taut. My mouth drops open and I moan.
He chuckles darkly before dropping his mouth to mine in a deep, hungry kiss. “Goddammit, Louise. I’m trying to take care of you.”
“I’m just letting you know you don’t have to treat me like glass,” I whisper against his mouth. “I won’t break, okay?”
Zach releases the hold of my hair and sets to work brushing through the wet strands. He’s gentle, combing through the knots tenderly, until the brush glides through from root to tip effortlessly.
I can’t stifle the whimper of pleasure.
He chuckles behind me, gliding the brush through again, slowly. “Feel good?”
“Mmhmm,” I hum, nodding. “I don’t think anyone has brushed or played with my hair since I was a kid. It feels amazing.”
“You haven’t had a man to take care of you properly, then,” he harrumphs from behind me, and I laugh.
“That’s an understatement.” I look up at him again. “Dating is its own special kind of nightmare.”
“What do you mean?”
I shrug, leaning my back against his abdomen.
He tosses the hairbrush aside and wraps his arms around my shoulders, leaning his cheek against the top of my head.
God, I love that he’s not shy about physical touch.
One of us is always touching the other, and I’m fucking here for it.
I’ve missed this. The quiet parts of a relationship.
Not that that’s what this is.
I’m self-aware enough to realize I’m catching feelings hard and fast for Zach.
Yeah… that ‘no-man’ hiatus is fucked.
So, even though I know that that’s not what this is right now, I know that my delusional little heart is going to hope for that for the very near future. If this continues… I know I have the very real potential of absolutely wrecking my heart over this man.
Not to mention his girls. I’m half in love with them already, too.
“The dating scene is just… not great. Guys tend to disappear on me. Like, there one day and poof, gone like a ghost the next. It’s… exhausting. I don’t know that I have another failed ‘talking stage’ left in me.”
His arms tighten around my shoulders, and he growls from above me, “Any man that disappears on you isn’t worth your time, anyway.
And I’m going to admit that I deeply hate the idea of you dating.
” He kisses the top of my head, and I swoon a little bit more.
“Is that terrible of me to say to someone like you?”
“Someone like me?” I laugh, wrapping my arms around his, holding him closer to me, too.
He nods, then inhales deeply. “You’re young, Louise. Young and with so much life ahead of you. I’m… incredibly conflicted where you’re concerned.”
“What does that mean?” I ask, my chest tightening with apprehension. Oh fuck. Is he already breaking up with me?
“Besides the obvious?” he chuffs lightly, squeezing me tighter. “My divorce is still pending, and it’s been incredibly bitter… and I don’t trust Brittanee. Not only to threaten to take my girls from me, but… I know her. If she finds out about this… about us…”
Swallowing hard, I ask quietly, “And… what is this, Zach?”
“I don’t have a good answer for that yet,” he admits softly, and I nod. “I know I like you, more than I should. I know I haven’t felt like this in a really, really long time, Louise. I know I’d like to see where this can go.” Kissing the top of my head again, he sighs, “You’ve bewitched me.”
Oh shit. Is he saying what I think he’s saying? Twisting my head to look up at him, I whisper, “Really?”
Trailing his fingers down my cheek, he nods. “Yeah. I think so.” He smiles sadly, then. “It has the potential to get really ugly, though. And I realize that it’s not fair of me to ask you—”
Shifting so that I’m facing him, kneeling on the edge of the bed, I raise my hands and cup his cheeks, scratching my fingers through the scruff of his beard. I search his eyes with mine before licking my lips. Drawing my courage.
Yeah, so much for that hiatus. Because I’m cooked. This man… I’m head over heels. Fuccckkk.
So, I do the only thing I know how to do… and dive in headfirst.
“I know that this could get ugly.” Swallowing hard, I whisper, “I will walk with you through all of it, Zach. Just… just don’t push me away if or when it gets hard, or heavy, okay? Don’t disappear on me if it gets ugly.”
His palms cup my own cheeks, and he rests his forehead against mine. He nods. “I’m not going anywhere without you, Princess.”