Page 31 of The Ex-Girlfriend Agreement

"See something you like?" I can't resist asking.

She flushes but doesn't look away. "Just making sure you're keeping your distance."

"Of course." I make a show of pressing myself against the far wall of the shower, though it still leaves barely a foot between us in the enclosed space. "Better?"

Water cascades over us both, cool enough to provide relief from the heat but not so cold that it's uncomfortable. For a few minutes, we manage to maintain the pretense that this is purely about temperature regulation, both facing the showerhead, letting the water rinse away the salt and sweat of the day.

But then Brooke shifts, reaching for the shampoo, and her hip brushes against mine. The contact, brief as it is, sends electricity through me, and judging by her sharp intake of breath, she feels it too.

"Sorry," she murmurs, not sounding sorry at all.

"No problem." I step back, giving her more room, but my eyes remain fixed on the water droplets trailing down her spine, between the perfect curves of her backside.

She begins to lather her hair, arms raised, completely unself-conscious in her nudity despite the tension crackling between us. The sight of her like this—wet, naked, utterly beautiful—is more than any man could be expected to resist. I feel myself hardening further, desire pooling hot and insistent despite the cool water.

"Can you help me with my back?" she asks suddenly, glancing over her shoulder. "I can't reach the sunburn."

She knows exactly what she's doing. The innocent request, the vulnerable look in her eyes—it's a calculated move, an invitation disguised as practicality.

"Sure," I say, reaching for the body wash. "Turn around."

She does, presenting her back to me, and I squeeze a dollop of the coconut-scented wash onto my palm. My hands meet her skin, and we both inhale sharply at the contact. I start at her shoulders, working the lather gently over the pink, slightly tender skin, feeling her melt under my touch.

"That feels good," she sighs, her head dropping forward.

I continue down her back, my movements slower, more deliberate than necessary. My thumbs trace the knobs of her spine, the dimples at her lower back. Her breathing changes, becoming shallower, quicker.

"Dean," she whispers, and it's not a protest but a plea.

I step closer, eliminating the space between us, my chest against her back, my arousal evident against her. My hands slide around her waist, up over her ribcage to cup her breasts, and she gasps, arching into my touch.

"Still just cooling off?" I murmur against her ear, nipping gently at the lobe.

"Shut up," she breathes, turning in my arms to face me. "Just shut up and kiss me."

I don't need to be told twice. My mouth finds hers, hungry and demanding, all pretense abandoned. Her arms wind around my neck, pulling me closer as her body presses fully against mine, skin to skin, nothing between us now.

The kiss deepens, tongues tangling, breath mingling. Her hands roam my chest, my back, gripping my shoulders as I back her against the tiled wall. The cool porcelain against her heated skin makes her gasp into my mouth, the sound driving me wild.

"Brooke," I groan as her hand wraps around me, stroking firmly. "Are you sure about this?"

"I'm sure I want you," she says, her eyes meeting mine with unexpected clarity. "Right now. Everything else can wait."

It's enough. More than enough. I lift her, her legs wrapping around my waist as I press her against the wall. She's ready for me, hot and slick despite the cool water still cascading over us both. I enter her in one smooth thrust, both of us groaning at the sensation of being joined again.

"God, yes," she breathes, her head falling back against the tiles. "Dean, please."

I begin to move, setting a rhythm that has her clutching at my shoulders, her nails digging into my skin. The shower continues to rain down on us, adding another layer of sensation to the overwhelming pleasure of being inside her again.

Her lips find mine, the kiss messier now, all teeth and tongue and desperate hunger. I shift my angle slightly, and she cries out, the sound echoing off the bathroom walls.

"That's it," I encourage, repeating the movement that made her voice catch. "Let go, Brooke."

Her body tightens around mine, her breathing becoming erratic as she approaches the edge. I can feel my own release building, a pressure at the base of my spine that grows with each thrust.

"Dean," she gasps, her eyes flying open to meet mine. "I'm going to?—"

"Yes," I growl, increasing my pace. "Come for me, sweetheart."

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