Page 58 of Mine to Protect

Keeping my back to the wall, then the counter all the way around the kitchen, I eased across the room, never dropping his hungry gaze. Inside the bathroom, I focused on the lock for a few seconds before turning and flipping the hot water on. The potential for sex was the ultimate motivator, it seemed. Who knew the hope of him walking in on me in the shower to fulfill his promise now instead of later would be what I needed not to lock a door.

Eyes closed, I fantasized that each soapy swipe of my hands up and down my torso, over my breasts, between my legs was his instead of my own. At the heat boiling beneath my skin and the nearly scalding water, sweat beaded along my forehead and beneath my arms. I had to stop thinking about him if I ever expected to get clean.

Propping my foot along the edge of the tub caused delicious friction between my thighs, causing a louder-than-expected whimper to pour out.

“Everything okay in there?” Cas asked on the other side of the door.

More than you know.

“Yeah, almost done. Trying to hurry to not use all the hot water.”

“We could always save water and shower together.”

Mouth gaping, I stared at the plastic shower curtain, half expecting it to rip aside. Fantasizing about him in here with me was one thing, but it actually happening was another. I mean, I’d just had my first kiss in ten years. Things needed to slow down, or my fear of having a panic attack in front of him would become a reality.

“I’ll be done in a minute,” I said breathily. Hopefully he couldn’t hear that part.

A deep chuckle sounded on the other side of the door. “Okay, Lady.”

With a sigh of relief, I went back to scrubbing my leg. My hairy leg.

Fuck.

I hadn’t shaved since shorts season, which was last month. Or maybe the month before? In a panic, I hastily searched through the products crammed into the corners of the tub for shaving cream. Relief washed over when I picked up the near-full bottle; seemed I didn’t use it that much, even during shorts season. My gaze traveled from the bottle clutched in my hands to the very, very,veryunkempt patch of hair just below my belly.

Under my terrified stare, the puff of blonde, coarse hair seemed to fluff and grow.

Again I whimpered, but that time for an entirely different reason.

I needed a pair of hedge clippers, or maybe a lawnmower. At least a pair of scissors, which, of course, were hidden under the spare pillow in my bedroom.

“What do I do? What do I do?” I whispered into the warm stream of water.

One problem at a time. That always helped calm the rising panic in the past.

Armpits.

Legs.

Crotch.

I’d tackle one hairy mess at a time. With a quick prayer that the razor blade was sharp enough to undertake this challenge, I squirted a dollop of shaving cream into my hand and lifted my arm to start on step one.

20

Alta

The water cooledwithin seconds of wrapping up project de-hair. Stepping out of the tub, I snagged a towel and flipped my hair to wring out the gallon of water trapped in the thick locks. Being hairless everywhere other than my head felt sexy. With renewed confidence, I tucked the towel around my chest and swung the door open, only to be stopped by a muscular chest preventing me from vacating the bathroom.

“That wasn’t quick,” he stated as his gaze roamed up and down my near-naked body, pausing at my heaving breasts pressing against the tight towel. Time stood still as his teeth sank into his lower lip. “Are you scared?”

Scared?

Yes.

No. Not in the way he was undoubtedly thinking. With wide eyes, I focused on the indentions left along his lower lip. My thighs squeezed together to ease the pounding throb those tiny indentations caused.

“You have a choice, Lady. I’ll respect your decision either way, but I need to know. Push me away if you don’t want me to rip that towel off you right now and bury my face between your legs. Because the control I normally have around you is wearing thin.”

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