Page 80 of Changing Tides

Stripping out of my clothes, I slide in behind her as she faces the spray, and I take the opportunity to appreciate her backside. I run a hand around her waist and up her chest while I trail kisses across her back.

Reaching for the body wash with my free hand, I pump some into my palm.

She lets my hands explore as I lather her body. Caressing and massaging as I do. Making sure I don’t miss a single inch of her skin.

Once I have her thoroughly clean, I place her back under the spray to rinse. Her head falls to my shoulder, and she wiggles her ass against my growing erection. I lean over her and plant a hand on the stall just below the showerhead.

I want so badly to lift her against the cool tiles and fuck her until she’s screaming my name, but this isn’t about me; it’s for her.

It’s an apology.

It takes all my strength to stand back up and proceed to shampoo her hair, but I do. Willing my body under control.

Once I’m done washing her, I reach and turn the spray off.

She turns to face me, and my eyes don’t leave hers as I grab a towel and start at her feet.

Her hand presses into my shoulder as she spreads her stance so I can gently dry her.

She moans as the terry cloth brushes her inner thigh.

“Don’t make those sexy sounds, Doc, or you won’t make it to pick Leia up,” I warn.

She bites her lip to keep from making another peep as I finish my task, ending with the cloth wrapped around her hair.

Once she steps out of the stall and leaves the room, I dry myself and step back into my discarded clothing.

I meet her in the kitchen, and we gather my tools in silence before we walk across the street, hand in hand.

Nana is sitting in a rocker on the porch with Leia on her lap when she spots us—both of us with wet hair, our fingers intertwined—and a knowing smile graces her face.

This whole thing was a setup.

Cunning old woman.

“Sorry I’m late.”

Leia’s head snaps in our direction at the sound of her mother’s voice. “Mommy!”

Avie releases my hand and catches her as she leaps in her arms.

“I swimmed without my floaties today,” she announces.

“You did?”

She nods.

“Yep, and I floated on my back for, like, this many”—she raises both hands and spreads all her fingers wide—“minutes.”

“Wow, you’re turning into a little fish,” Avie praises.

“Nana said you have to learn how to swim before you can turn five,” she says.

“That has always been the rule,” I say.

I walk over to Nana and place the key she gave me on the arm of the rocker.

“All fixed?” she asks.

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