Chapter 9 #2
No way she’d acknowledge she was hot for him. They shouldn’t repeat last night. She paused the movie. “I need a bath. I haven’t showered since yesterday.” She’d wash any arousal down the drain until she was scent free, like a friend should be.
Nima sat up, his arm coming off the back of the couch and nearly landing on her leg.
But no, he didn’t touch her. Instead, he seemed to fake a stretch and returned his arm to the couch.
“Right now?” He gestured to the TV. “Christine doesn’t have a gown for the ball, and she has to meet the queen in one hour. ”
Mari’s lips twitched. She would have been hard-pressed to name the main character. He was paying more attention to the movie than she was. “Yeah, right now. Please? We can watch the conclusion tomorrow.” She ran a hand through her messy hair. “I’ve been in bed all day. I’m gross.”
Ever helpful, Nima carefully moved her feet aside before he rose. “I’ll start the water.”
“Would you add a capful of bubble bath? It’s on the edge of the tub . . . or under the sink?” As her husband walked away, she couldn’t help but watch his powerful ass flexing in his jeans. “Thanks.”
Husband. They’d been married for ten years, but she’d never thought of him that way.
If things had turned out differently in Nevada, where would they be now?
Would Nima still be her husband? Would they have kids?
When she was younger, she always imagined him at her side as they grew old together.
It was impossible not to wonder what could have been.
But those thoughts led to regret and sadness.
She quickly brushed them away to focus on the present.
As the tub filled, Mari made her way to the bathroom on crutches.
Nima removed her ankle bandage since it hurt for her to lean forward to unwrap it.
She assured him she could handle the rest on her own and ushered him out the door.
She undressed, then paused, staring at the tub as vanilla-scented steam beaded her skin.
How was she supposed to lower herself into the water without tweaking her injuries?
Finally, she gave up. “Hey, Nima?” she called through the closed bathroom door. As his footsteps grew louder, she blurted, “I’m naked,” so he wouldn’t barge right in.
“Okay, good to know,” he said from the other side of the door, a hint of humor in his voice. “That’s an important step in bathing.”
Mari stared down at the inviting bubble bath.
“I can’t climb into the bathtub. I’m afraid I’ll slip and hurt myself worse.
” But then Nima would be here longer . .
. Would that be such a bad thing? Yes, of course it would.
Their objective was friendship, and they both had separate lives to live.
Plus, she had a bakery to run and needed a strong, healed body for that.
“Are you telling me this because you’d like my ideas on how to climb safely into the tub on your own? Or would you like me to physically lift you into the bathtub?”
Mari inwardly groaned. There was only one safe option, and they both knew it. “Can you please pick me up and set me in the water? But don’t look at my . . .” She glanced down at her bare breasts and the infinity tattoo, identical to Nima’s. “My nakedness.”
Had Nima just huffed a laugh? “I can’t safely lift you in and out of the tub with my eyes closed, but I promise to avert my gaze.”
She didn’t doubt him, though he’d still likely see everything. Not that he hadn’t seen it before. But there was more of her now. Oh well. “Thank you,” she said, resigning herself to it. “You can come in.”
As he slowly opened the door, she thought back to the clinic.
He’d already proven himself in this capacity when she’d needed help with her pants.
Except . . . Fuck! That was when he reminded her how hard he’d become while pressed against her in the bathroom closet.
The memory sent a fresh wave of desire flooding through her.
Nima’s gaze met hers as he closed the door behind him, keeping the warm, moist air in the room.
His nostrils flared, and his deep aqua-blue eyes sparked with interest. He scented her all right.
It might have been ten years, but she knew that look.
Her core throbbed, aching to be filled .
. . by Nima. She couldn’t lie to herself.
Maybe this bath hadn’t been the best idea after all. In her effort to wash away all evidence of her arousal, she’d only created more. And now she’d confined the two of them in a small, steamy room that likely amplified her scent.
But, true to his word, Nima didn’t glance below her shoulders. “Are you ready?” He asked. Was it her imagination, or had his voice grown deeper, sexier?
She was so ready. So ready to climb on top of Nima and lower herself onto the hard shaft that tented his pants.
So ready to extinguish the ache in her core and experience satisfaction like she hadn’t known in ten years.
People in the know said, “Once you’ve had yeti dick, you won’t want to go back .
. .” But Mari knew deep down this was about Nima and her, not his impressive equipment.
Or rather, not only about his equipment.
Despite what she kept telling herself, she’d never gotten over him.
“Are you ready?” Nima repeated. “Your bathwater is cooling.”
Right, ready for her bath. Not “ready to ride me like a cowgirl?” Mari forced out, “Yes, thanks. I’m ready for my bath. How should—”
She was going to ask how they should proceed, but Nima’s strong, muscular arms had already lifted her off her feet, bride style. “Mind your ankle,” he said as he squatted and gently lowered her into the water.
“Do you need anything else?” he asked, already at the door, eyes still on hers, never dipping lower.
So. Many. Things. Your face between my legs? Unlike Nima’s gaze, Mari’s roamed over him. If the bulge in his pants was any indication, he needed more things too. She silently shook her head, and he closed the door, leaving her alone.
If Mari gave in to her urges, and if Nima was interested, she’d better wash up. First get clean, then contemplate getting dirty with her yeti.