Page 104 of Fumbled Into Love

“What are you doing?!” Deon screams over the sound of the shower. I finally glance over, and he’s hunched over, covering himself, my fancy body scrub on the tile.

“Were you using my things?”

“No,” he chokes out. I jerk my chin at the bottle on the floor. “I was…smelling it.”

“Were you?” I flush and wash my hands before sauntering to the shower door. The steam hides all but the outline of his body, but I want to see him fully.

My fingers itch to trace the hard lines of his muscles. As murderous and creepy as it may sound, I want to crawl into his skin to be closer to him. Laying on top of him in bed isn’t enough sometimes.

“What—What are you doing?” Deon asks, shuffling back in the large standing shower as I inch closer.

“Admiring you,” I admit. I might not be willing to tell him I’m falling for him, but he can know this. “You’re really beautiful.” I lean against the glass door. “Did you know that?”

Condensation builds on the glass, and I swipe it away to find Deon’s cheeks a bright red.

Oh my God. Deon Adams is fucking blushing.

I’m so giddy to see Deon with a blush that I hop onto the bathroom counter and swing my feet as I wait for a response.

Deon bends to retrieve my body scrub but contorts his body to reveal as little of himself as possible. I choke on my laughter.

“Deon.” My lips quiver as I try to hide my smile. “You’ve been inside of me. There’s no need for modesty.”

He gives me an incredulous look through the steam, and a wonderful idea pops into my mind.

“Can I join?” I ask, leaping to my feet.

“Join?” Deon’s short-circuiting. “Likeshoweringtogether?”

“Yeah,” I shrug, playing it cool when, in fact, my brain is frying right beside Deon’s. Showering with someone is something I’ve always seen in the movies and read in the books. “Do I need to say ‘artichoke’ for this? I can. Artichoke.”

It’s always held this romantic undertone, and I want to try it.

It’s not like I’m going to be doing it with anyone else while I try to get over Deon, so I may as well experience it now.

I stand on the other side of the glass door, waiting.

“Okay.”

I waste no time stripping down and stepping into a massive shower, large enough to fit three Deon-sized people comfortably. A built-in bench sits along the far wall, and a rain shower drenches my hair.

I pluck the scrub from his hand and place it back onto the shelf.

Deon gulps when we make eye contact, his gaze roving along my skin. Goosebumps travel along my forearms despite the hot water.

Fuck, I want to touch him.

Deon stands frozen, and my breast grazes his arm as I grab my shower gel.

“Can I?” I lift the soap.

He nods, and I lather the soap between my hands. Starting at his broad shoulders, I work my way down, gently caressing his skin. He sighs, and as I step closer, his erection presses against my stomach.

My core plummets, and I work my hands along his chest, paying close attention to his abs that ripple as he shifts.

“Fuck, Nat,” Deon groans as I inch closer to his hips.

Palms slayed against his chest, I push him back onto the bench. Lust and trepidation flicker across Deon’s gaze.

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