15. Drew
Drew
D id I intend on stepping into the shower with the love of my life today? Hell, no. I’m lucky she hasn’t realized how much of a lovesick puppy I am. She could kick me to the curb every day for the rest of my life, and I’d still come crawling back, tail wagging and ready to try again.
The first time she whispers for me to stay, I can’t stop the way my body freezes for a moment. No way did I hear her correctly. A figment of my imagination, surely.
But, no. When she says it again, it’s damn near a command, one I’d be stupid to ignore.
As she backs her way to the shower, she slinks her hands under my shirt and pushes up. “I’d take it off, but I don’t want to hurt you.”
I help her slip it over my head and gingerly slide it off my injured side. Whether it’s the shot from Doc Lindsey or the close proximity to a very naked Leila, I don’t know, but the constant pulsing heat I usually feel is down to a low simmer. I’ll take it.
Leila’s eyes rake over me, her gaze burning a trail from abs to ink as her pointer finger instinctively traces the black lines. I know immediately when she spots the addition, hand freezing and breath sucking in.
I drop another kiss to her head before tuning her around. “Let’s get in before all the hot water is gone.”
“But your shorts.”
“Don’t matter.”
“But you don’t have clothes here.” She tries to turn again as I step under the stream with her, the water at skin-melting temps. Leila melts as I pull her back to my chest, her mind and body finally giving in to the comfort I long to provide.
“I have a bag stashed in the hall closet,” I whisper against her ear, causing goosebumps to spread down her arms.
“You gave me goosies,” she whispers breathlessly, her head rolling back to look up at me. Oh, how I’d love to hear her like that in another situation.
I shift my hips back, trying to keep the bulge in my shorts from pressing into Leila’s back, but she catches the movement. Before I can stop her, she shifts her hips to meet mine, a tiny moan escaping her lips as she succeeds in her mission to torture me.
Leila is quick. I barely catch her hand before it sneaks into my shorts, and the pout that takes over her face is enough to crack a smile on mine.
“This isn’t about me, Gracie. No matter how much I’ve missed your touch. Now, tilt your head back so I can wet your hair.”
She cuts her eyes at me, the pout turning into a scowl. “You don’t have to wash my hair.”
“Do you want me to stop?” I ask as my fingers begin massaging her scalp, her body becoming pliant in my hold. The pleasure sounds slipping from her throat have me questioning my resolve to keep this intimate moment innocent. “That’s what I thought.”
Leila remains quiet as I shampoo and condition her hair.
“Tilt back, baby,” I rasp as I rinse the remaining suds and sift a comb through the strands.
She’s nearly asleep on her feet by the time I cut the water off and wrap her in the fluffy towel I’d already set out for her.
Once she’s wrapped like a burrito, I settle her on the closed toilet lid while I quickly dry off and hunt down my bag.
Thankfully, Gavin and Kaia aren’t back yet.
The last thing I need is having to explain how settling Leila post-panic turned into a shower together.
Once I have both of us clothed—Leila in the shirt I’d discarded earlier at her request—I settle us both on the couch. The silence is comfortable, how it’s always been with us. Leila curls into my side, her knees and feet tucked under my shirt.
“Why don’t you get some sleep?” I suggest. “I know you didn’t get any earlier, even if your brother thinks you were.”
Instead of arguing with me, she leans into my side in a pseudo-hug and whispers that same four-letter word. “Stay.”
I snag the blanket from the back of the couch and drape it over her before settling my arm around her and popping out the footrest. “Always, sunshine,” I say as I place a kiss on her forehead.
My words are met with soft snores as her body finally submits to the adrenaline crash. “You’re stuck with me,” I whisper.