Chapter Nineteen #4
I pull out one of Will’s big t-shirts from my pajama drawer and toss it on the bed along with a clean pair of undies. I step out of my skirt and whip off my top and bra, ready to change and get into bed.
“You wanna take a shower with me? I’m disgusting from the bar.”
Not even two minutes in and he’s asking me to shower with him. “I thought you said no funny business?”
“I did, and I mean it. Just a shower. You don’t have to join me, but if you’re okay with it, I want to take a shower before getting into your bed. I’m gross.”
“Knock yourself out.” God, I sound so bitchy right now.
I can hear him draw the curtains open and closed again, water running.
I’m conflicted. I want to take a shower with him, to curl up into his chest under the hot water, but I also don’t really want to fight him off if he gets horny. In the end, my desire for comfort wins out and I open the bathroom door stepping inside. He pops his head around the curtain, smiling.
“Can I join you?”
“Yes you can fucking join me, and you better get your ass in here before I take all the hot water,” he says tossing open the shower curtain.
“This is an apartment. You don’t run out of hot water.” I say, I can feel the bitchiness fading from my tone, fighting a stupid smile.
“Well I don’t want to test it. You better get in here just in case we do lose hot water,” he deadpans.
I step into the far end of the shower, pulling the curtain closed and covering my chest with one forearm and my groin with my other hand, unsure of what to do with my body or where I should look.
Being in the shower like this is exposing and awkward.
“Come here.” He tugs me into his chest, under the warm spray of the water, running his finger tips over the column of my spine. There’s a smattering of tiny red and purple marks across his chest and tops of his left shoulder in various stages of healing.
I really do leave a lot of marks on him, but every time I start sucking, he acts like it's the best thing he’s ever felt. And he’s never told me not to leave them.
He kisses me once on the forehead then spins me so my back is to him. A few moments later, he holds a handful of my shampoo in front of me. “Is this enough shampoo for you?”
I swallow a lump in my throat about the fact Will’s about to wash my hair.
“A little more.” He pulls his hand back and adds more shampoo before showing me again.
After approving of the shampoo quantity, I tilt my head back, fully submerging my hair under the water, letting the heat pour over me and wash off tonight.
When my hair’s nice and wet he starts to massage the shampoo into my scalp, working it in with his fingers.
“You have so much hair.”
“Sorry? I can’t really help it.”
“No, you misunderstand me,” he says, working the shampoo in, “I like your hair. A lot. You just have so much, it's insane to me how much you have.”
I don’t know what to say so I hum out a response. Behind me Will chuckles to himself. I turn my head to peek over my shoulder, “What’s so funny?”
“I’m just thinking about how ever since I started staying over here, your hair is literally everywhere. This morning, I unwrapped one of your hairs from around my balls.”
“Ew, Will,” I huff, but don’t really mean it.
He continues to work his fingers into my hair, giving me the most thorough hair washing of my life.
I like it, it feels so tender and gentle and caring.
But it’s also too much for what we are, it's confusing me. I’m developing very real and very big feelings for him.
How could I not when he’s literally washing my hair and telling me everyday how hot he thinks I am?
The hot sting behind my eyes and under the bridge of my nose threatens to break into tears as Carter’s words from earlier are replaying in my mind on a loop. I feel like I need to say something, to defend myself, to explain myself, I don’t know exactly.
“It was only one time,” I say. He grunts out a noise that sounds to be a question. “Asking him to call me those things…I only asked him once. That’s not my thing, I don’t like–”
“I know. And you don’t need to explain it to me, I’ve had other girlfriends and said insane things in the heat of the moment.
” I’m trying not to read too much into Will saying he’s had other girlfriends, as if I’m his current girlfriend.
“Sex and dirty talk is different from real life,” he says matter of factly, “It didn’t upset me that he’s called you that.
I mean, yeah, it did, but not in the way you’re probably thinking.
One of the things you told me was that you didn’t like being degraded.
Knowing that about you and him degrading you anyway upset me. ”
I don’t really know how to respond to him. My chest is tight with about ten different conflicting emotions when Will’s hand appears in front of me again, this time filled with hair conditioner. “More,” I say.
“You’re lying. There’s no way you use more than this.”
“I’m not joking, try doubling what you have in your hand.” I look over my shoulder and watch him add more conditioner to his palm. His gaze clashes with mine, and winks at me while rubbing his hands together, spreading the conditioner onto both palms. “Just the ends,” I say.
“Okay, where do I stop?” He holds his hands out in front of him, hovering over my head.
I reach behind me, motioning with my hands where to stop. “Nothing above here.” He works the conditioner into my hair, tender and careful. “Why didn’t you react at the bar?” I say.
He pauses his ministrations, “Is that something you want? For me to react? Try and defend your honor or something?” He sounds a little defensive. No, defensive isn't right, maybe taken aback by my question.
“No, no. That’s not what I mean. I’m just wondering why you didn’t react to him. I think I expected a different reaction or something.”
“Of course I wanted to punch him in the fucking face, but would that have made it better or worse for you?” There’s a hint of anger seeping into his tone before I hear him take a breath and say, “I don’t ever want to make things worse for you.”
Oh.
I spin back around and face him, covering my chest with both my fists, attempting to lighten the mood again, “I’m going to look like a racoon. I didn’t take my make-up off before I got in here.”
“Then you’ll be the sexiest racoon I’ve ever seen.
” He places a chaste kiss to my lips like it’s something we do; just casually kiss each other, before holding up the bottle of body wash and raising his eyebrow at me.
I nod my head yes and hold out my hand, exposing my chest to him.
His eyes immediately fall to my tits and he smiles like he’s looking at his favorite birthday meal.
My hand is still suspended in mid air, waiting for him to squirt body wash into my palm. “No funny business, remember.”
“I swear I’m not trying anything, but baby, I’m only a man. If there's a pair of tits one foot in front of me, especially if they’re yours, I’m going to look. Let me look at you please.”
“You have five seconds.”
“Sixty.”
“Ten.”
“Thirty.”
“Ten.”
“Fine,” he says, “but I also get to touch?” I roll my eyes and nod at him, pulling my lips between my teeth to stop myself from smiling.
He looks downright giddy for a ten second titty grab.
He sets the body wash down on the ledge and grabs both of my breasts with his hands, cupping each one and pushing them together.
He massages the flesh and pinches both nipples between his thumb and forefinger, tugging on my piercings.
His ministrations have a direct line to my center, arousal blooming under his touch.
“Okay, times’ up.”
He drops his hands without a fight and grabs the body wash, squirting some of it in both our open hands. I’m a little self conscious to wash between my legs with him watching, but thankfully Will turns his body, giving me his back and some privacy.
I wash myself, thinking about tonight over and over.
“I’m really proud of you,” I say. “For your applications, but also your game tonight.” I can feel his eyes on me from behind, but I keep going.
“I’m excited to see what school you get into.
And I’ve been thinking that I might want to try coming to your next home game. ”
His wet slippery chest glides along my back.
He rests his chin on my shoulder. “Thank you. I’d like that.
” His soapy hands run down both my arms. “I like knowing you're watching me,” he says, letting me go and turning around. “And I wasn’t joking about taking you out on a real date. Does next Sunday morning work for you? Not in two days, I’ll be gone for a game, but the Sunday after? ”
I’m trying to remain cool and calm and collected, but I really want to freak out.
“Maybe? I might have plans with Miranda, but they’re flexible.
What time are you thinking?” I’m impressed with how confident I sound.
I finish washing myself and start rinsing out the conditioner.
Will’s hands are on my hair before he responds.
“Does ten thirty work?”
He turns the water off and pulls back the shower curtain.
The small bathroom is fogged up, steam curling in the air.
He steps out first, resting a hand against the wall to balance as he steps over the rim of the tub.
He grabs the towel off the hook, handing it to me, before grabbing a towel from under my sink and drying off his legs.
“Ten thirty works. What kind of outfit should I be wearing?”
“Something casual. Really casual. The more casual the better. And no heels. Definitely sneakers.”
I start running through all my clothes in my head for extremely casual while also being cute enough to wear on a date. “I swear if you take me to the gym for our first date.” I attempt to sound threatening, but Will’s smirk on his face says it came off less than lethal.
“I’m not taking you to the gym. But maybe you should pack a spare change of clothes just in case.”
I brush my hair and take off my racoon make up before prepping my toothbrush, trying to rack my brain for where Will’s going to take me.
I know he’s not taking me for a run, because I would simply sit down if that were the case.
Will’s tooth brush appears in his hand and I add a line of toothpaste to his too.
We both brush our teeth side by side, then don our clothes in comfortable silence.
Before I get into my bed I ask, “Hot or cold?” He looks confused; I point to his knee. “Hot or cold?”
“Oh. Hot.”
Will turns off all the lights, double checks the door is locked, and plugs in both our phones while I dig around under my bed for the heating pad I use for cramps.
He slides into my bed on his back and lets me arrange the heating pad around his knee.
I stuff my pillow between his arm and chest, laying on my side against him, hand over his muscular pectoral thinking about Miranda again.
I know that this moment is probably not the best time to have any more serious conversations, but I have to. I’m too worked up over the shower and washing my hair and asking me on dates and kissing me in front of his friends. “Are you having sex with anyone else?”
I can feel the tension roll through his body next to me. “Are you?”
“I asked you first.”
“No! Are you?”
“No!”
“Do you want to have sex with other people? Is that what this is?”
“Oh my God, No! Why would you ask me that?”
“I don’t know, Ken, probably because I was under the impression we were already exclusive.”
His arm flexes around me and I throw my leg over his, running my fingers across his chest, feeling shy and stupid. “I didn’t know that.”
Will lets out an exasperated chuckle, running a hand over his face.
“Then I’ll be extra clear: I’m not doing this,” he pokes me with a finger, “with anyone else. I’m not talking to other girls, I’m not staying at their apartments, I’m not thinking of every possible excuse to spend time with anyone else except you. ”
Intense satisfaction flows through me. “I’m not doing this with anyone else either.”
“Then it's settled. We’re exclusive.”
Will rolls onto his side, kicking the heating pad off his leg and onto the floor, shifting us until we’re spooning with one of his heavy arms thrown over me. Within seconds I feel his hard length pressing against me. “Ignore it,” he whispers. “Goodnight.”
I fall asleep with Will curled around me and in the morning, he says goodbye slowly, kissing my entire body, spending a lot of time kissing between my legs.
I won’t see him again until after Thanksgiving due to his away game schedule and he says he wants to make sure I’ll know how much he’ll be thinking about me when he’s gone.