Page 102 of Hot Shot

She smiles and returns to the plate. “Mmm, shu guh. Wuh hunhry.”

“I can see that.”

“Wan shum?”

“I snacked in the kitchen while I made it. Here, drink some water so you don’t choke.”

She takes it with a grateful face, gulping greedily. “Mmm. Thank you,” she pants. “Jesus, how gross was that?”

“Zero percent.”

Her face flattens, head tilted. “Oh, come on.”

“If it had been anybody else, I would have had to leave the room. It’s cute on you. Don’t know why. Science, I guess.”

“Well, that’s what compatibility is, really. It’s not the good stuff that makes you fit together. It’s that you think all the annoying shit is cute.” She pops a grape into her mouth, then another, shaking her head at the plate. “Just when I think you can’t get hotter, you go and do shit like this. Unreal, dude. Un. Real.”

“I like taking care of you.”

When she turns to look at me this time, her eyes are all big and schmoopy. “See? Like that!” She pushes the tray so it’s way at the other end of the tub and hands me a bar of soap, picking up her loofa after. We’re too busy trying not to gawk at each other while we bathe—as much as I’d love nothing more than to fuck her again, I don’t want to hurt her. When we’re finished, she puts everything back on the ledge next to the tub, then sinks in and flips over in one motion. When her arms are wedged between my sides and the tub and her body is stretched out between my legs, she looks up at me with adoration. I try to ignore the way her tits are smushed against me and cradling my currently useless cock.

I skim one hand down her back, as far as I can reach, anyway. The bubbles tickle her chin, and worse, cover her ass.

“Really, Wilder—if you made a cheese board and bubble bath for all the girls you banged over the years, you must have left a trail of broken hearts.”

I frown. “Don’t do that.”

“What?” She’s genuinely confused, but I see a pang behind her eyes that I don’t like.

“Talk about any of that like it matters. It doesn’t. It never did—I was looking for something I’d never find.You.I like taking care ofyou. Like, pathologically. Like, it might be problematic just how much I want to take care of you.” The corner of my lips has climbed, and she smiles.

“If this is you being problematic, please—be a problem. Be a fuckingmenace.I can take it. Do your worst.”

I laugh, kiss her awkwardly because of the angle, and shift. “Sit up. Let me wash your hair.”

“But it’s not wash day!”

Thumbing her chin, I offer a placid smile. “Cass, there’s come in your hair.”

Her cheeks flame, which always makes her eyes look like they’re lit from the inside. “Fine, but you don’t have to do it.” She sits and puts her back to me, reaching to take her hair tie out, but I stay her with a hand on her wrist.

“Let me.”

The lovely curves of her shoulders rise and fall with a sigh of contentment. Her hands move to play with the bubbles, scooping and patting and blowing them while I work.

I untie her hair, enjoying with deep satisfaction the sight of it against her skin, the ends skimming the bubbles and into the water. I grab the little pitcher we use for Cricket when she takes a bath in here, dipping it into the tub to fill it.

“Tip your head,” I say, pleased when she does.

“What time is it?”

“Two thirty.”

Her head swivels around so she can gape at me. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope.” I turn her head back to the front and tug her hair so she’ll tip it for another round. “Tell me about last night with Jessa and Shelby.”

“Well, the whole thing started because they were making fun of me. They asked if I was still pretending I wasn’t interested in you, so I reminded them I’ve never denied the depraved thoughts I have for you.”

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