Page 61 of Call Me Mrs. Taylor

Her eyes find mine. A smile curls her lips. “You gonna stand there, or are you gonna help me out of my dress?”

I step forward, my fingers finding her waist, sliding up beneath the fabric. I take my time dragging the dress over her body, knowing what I’ll find underneath.

Nothing.

To be fair, she said we wouldn’t be wearing much, but seeing the confirmation has me on brick. Again.

Her eyes flicker up to mine, sparkling and teasing in the moonlight.

“Let’s shower first,” I say. “Then I’ma take my time with you.”

The second we step under the spray, the water stings our skin, and steam curls around us in thick clouds. She looks cute in her shower cap, which she put on over her bonnet, which she put on over a scarf. I take it we won’t be swimming this weekend, but it’s all good.

I grab the body wash she brought and get a good lather going. I take my time, washing her the way I would something delicate and precious. She watches me, her expression unreadable, studying my moves like she always does. But it’s not unsettling anymore. It just feels like…her.

When she finally speaks, her voice is softer than it’s ever been. “I love the way you touch me. You’re so gentle.”

The wonder in her voice makes me pause. It doesn’t sound like she’s been treated gently before. The weight of that settles deep in my chest.

She forces out a laugh, but it’s too late. I already noticed. But to save her the embarrassment, I kiss her.

By the time we make it to the bed, we’re both exhausted. Raya has an extensive moisturizing routine, and she forced me to participate. That shit was strenuous as hell, but my skin feels good. Hers is like butter.

And I get a second wind.

I get up and make my way to the foot of the bed. Before she knows what’s happening, I’ve already pulled her down there with me. She shrieks, which makes me laugh, but the look of concern on her face stops me.

“What’s wrong with you?” I demand, playing with her foot.

“Um…you don’t have to,” she says.

“Trust me, I don’t do a damn thing cuz Ihaveto,” I say with a wink. “I wanna taste you.”

Her fingers flex at her sides. “Maybe I don’t…want you to.”

Pure nostalgia. I remember this, being seventeen years old, brand new but eager, girls laid out, hands over their faces, worried about how it looked, if it was too hairy, or if it smelled bad.

At thirty years old, I expect her to be past this part.

“What you worried about?” I say.

She forces a smile, but it’s tight. “I just don’t like it.”

I let go of her foot and lean up on my knees to get a better look at her face. “You don’t like it?”

She shrugs, but her body’s still tense. Fingers still going. “It’s never been my thing.”

I’m confused. This can’t be the same Raya who loves teasing and provoking and having the upper hand. This Raya looks uneasy. Scared.

I stroke her arm, slow and reassuring. “Talk to me,” I say gently.

She exhales, staring at the ceiling like she wants to disappear into it. “It just…it scares me.”

Scares?

That’s a big word.

An uncomfortable word.

---