Page 171 of From Best Friend to Bride
And the whole time all I could think about was that she didn’t reply.
She didn’t tell me if she still planned on asking for the divorce papers.
“My turn.” Deli took the shower from me and turned around, kneeling between my legs. With a grin, she held the shower head right over my head, not bothering to keep it away from my face at all.
“Hey!” I sputtered out, trying to change the direction of it. Water ended up spurting all over the bathroom before she got it back under control, but the magical laugh that came out of her was so beautiful I couldn’t even be mad.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” She did it properly this time, and once my hair was properly wet, she handed me the shower and used some shampoo.
Her fingers against my scalp were firm as she massaged it in, and I let my gaze trace every visible inch of her body while she washed my hair. From her shining copper eyes to the love-bite on her neck, over her lightly freckled shoulders and across her round breasts.
There wasn’t a bit of her I didn’t love.
Deli hummed a song I vaguely recognised as she rinsed conditioner from my hair. She made sure every last bit was gone, then sat back and grinned at me. “Done.”
I turned off the water and wrapped my arms around her, pulling her against me. She ended up on her stomach, looking up at me.
“What?” she asked quietly after a moment.
“Nothing.” I pushed some wet hair from her face and loosened my hold on her. “Don’t hurt your back like that.”
“Okay, okay.” She manoeuvered herself onto her knees again and flattened her hands against my chest, gazing down at me.
“What?” I said, throwing her own word back at her.
“Nothing.” Her lips curved into a smile, and then, she leant forward and kissed me.
She kissed me so softly it could have been a dream.
Was I imagining it?
Surely not.
I cradled the back of her head and drew her in closer, flicking my tongue against the seam of her lips. She parted them, sweeping her tongue out to meet mine, and I fell into the warmth of her kiss.
I poured everything into it. I wanted her to feel how much I loved her, how desperately I needed her to stay.
How I’d do anything for her if it meant making this marriage real.
So, I kept kissing her. Slowly. Languidly. Filtering every bit of emotion I could into the gentle easiness of our lips meeting and our tongues tangling.
“No,” she muttered, pulling back. “I told you to put that thing away.”
I laughed, sliding my hands down her body. “Shall we get out?”
“Rinse,” she said, pointing tiredly at the shower.
“Okay. Stay there.”
“I was going to.” She yawned and leant back against the side of the bath.
I turned the shower on, only to look over my shoulder and catch her leaning on the side of the tub, staring at me. “Are you perving on me, my pretty wife?”
“Yes,” she replied, unashamed. “If not now, then when?”
“Whenever you like.” I laughed and helped her out of the tub, then put us both under the spray of water.
After a quick soap off where she slapped my wandering hands at least four times, we went back into the main bedroom. I grabbed us both clothes, and once Deli had done her usual routine of drying my hair for me, I swapped our positions and did the same for her.
