Page 144 of One Wrong Move

Nate keeps his eyes closed and forehead smooth—no furrows mar his serene expression—but there’s no smile on his lips, either. He sighs softly.

“Not so bad, is it?” I whisper and slide my hands to the back of his head. Dig into the muscles of his neck.

“No.” His deep voice is languid. “But I think that’s less about the bath and more about you.”

I smile. “Let’s say it’s a fifty-fifty effort.”

By the time I’m done, he looks relaxed enough to be half-asleep, his hands gripping the edges of the tub. But he dips his head again for me when I ask.

“Nate,” I ask, picking up the soap. “Can’t you tell me something… something you don’t usually tell other people?”

He slides his warm gaze to mine. “I am not particularly fond of pistachios.”

I burst out laughing, and he smiles, pleased with himself. “That’s not what I meant!”

“But that’s something I usually keep under lock and key.”

I dip my hand into the water, splashing him. “Can you be serious for a moment?”

“I can, if I must,” he says. Leans back against the towel and looks at me with half-lidded eyes. “Okay… you want my secrets?”

I grab the loofah and pour soap onto it. “I want to get to know you better.”

“Mm-hmm. I tell you something… and you take off another piece of clothing.”

My eyes widen. “This is about you enjoying a bath.”

“Of course it is,” he says, face perfectly innocent. “And isn’t having a beautiful view crucial for an enjoyable bath?”

“You’re insatiable,” I say, but I’m smiling.

“I warned you I would be, once we started this,” he says. He lifts his hand off the tub’s rim and wraps his fingers around one of my curls. “And you’ve already managed to get me naked. The bath was just an excuse, right?”

I roll my eyes. “You’re such a guy. Okay. I’m game.”

“Of course you are,” he says warmly and leans his head back against the edge. “You’re game for everything. Okay. You want me to bare my soul here, alongside my body? While I’m defenseless in soapy water?”

He looks up at the ceiling and thinks for a moment. The previously smooth forehead gets a new crease. “You know that my father has been giving me more attention in the last six months than he has in the past ten years, and all of it is because my sister and brother have shut him out.”

I blink at him. “Yeah.”

“I’m not upset about it. It’s just a fact. But I think it’s because he wants me to act as a mediator.”

“That’s not a role you should have to play.”

He shrugs. “I’m the middle child. It’s the role I was born to play.”

My fingers find the buttons of my cardigan and undo them. I shrug out of the garment and throw it back toward the open door leading to his bedroom. Only the camisole and skirt left.

And my underwear and bra.

Nate smiles. “Good girl.”

“I can’t believe we’re negotiating on this,” I murmur, but I’m smiling, too.

“I can.”

Picking up the loofah once again, I gesture for Nate to lean forward. Start soaping the broad muscles of his back. I know he runs and lifts weights, but he must have been doing that consistently for twenty years or more. His body is shaped like an athlete’s. Taut skin and strong muscles.

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