Page 54 of Beautiful Desire
As I head to my room, I rub at the dull ache in the center of my chest with my knuckles. Thinking back, I can’t remember thelast time somebody told me they were proud of me, and she’s done it more than once now. Granted, I haven’t exactly been doing a whole lot to be proud of, but still, it’s kind of pathetic how good it feels hearing Georgia say it.
Sitting on my bed, back against the headboard and computer in my lap, I’m somehow able to turn my mind off as I lose myself in the project. I’ve still got a ways to go until it’s finished, but I feel pretty good about the progress I’ve made already. Georgia and I were able to lay out a solid outline the other day when we were at the bookstore, and from there, I’ve been chugging along, a little bit each day, and for the first time all year, I don’t feel like I’m drowning in schoolwork and in over my head.
After a while, a knock sounds at the door. “Come in,” I call out.
“Sorry, didn’t think you’d still be working.” Pushing the door open wider, she steps into the room, her hair wet, like maybe she just got out of the shower.
That’s when I realize it’s dark outside. “Damn, what time is it?”
“A little after seven,” she offers. “You’ve been at it for a while, but I can let you get back to it.”
“Nah, it’s cool. I should probably call it for the night.” Closing my laptop, I set it beside me on the bed. “What’s up?”
Her gaze is soft as she watches me with an expression I can’t quite place. “Can you come with me?”
“Uh, sure?” I chuckle, climbing off the bed. “Is it a spider?”
“No, it’s not a spider.” Georgia snorts as she leads me into her bedroom. The small lamp on her nightstand illuminates the space in a soft, warm glow. She walks over to the bathroom, the door cracked and the light already on, and I’m so confused. Stepping inside, there’s a vanilla sugar candle burning on the counter behind her, and music playing quietly from the Bluetooth speaker beside it. Closing the distance, Georgia’sfingers come to the hem of my shirt, her gaze meeting mine as she pulls it over my head. “You mentioned you were sore earlier,” she murmurs while slipping her hands inside the back of my sweats and shoving them down. “And I know from experience that soaking in an Epsom salt bath can help.”
My pulse races, mouth dry, as I stand naked in front of her, trying to make sense of this.A bath.Turning my head, I notice the tub filled up, and my stomach flips.
“You put a lot of trust in me earlier and did something you’ve never done before. I should’ve done this as soon as we finished, but obviously, we both crashed.” Slipping her warm, soft hand into mine, Georgia leads me over to the tub.
“Should’ve done what?” I ask, my mind simply not understanding.
“Taken care of you and made sure you’re okay.”
“I am okay,” I rasp, my chest tight as she peers up at me. “You didn’t have to do this.”
Ignoring me, she nudges me in the arm and says, “Get in.”
None of this makes sense. She wants totake care of me?Why?The tub in here is one of those nice clawfoot ones, unlike the small, regular one in the main bathroom, and as I step inside and sit down, the water feels incredible. It’s hot, but nottoohot, and there’s a light lavender aroma floating around—I’m guessing from the Epsom salts. Reaching for the plastic cup sitting on the counter, Georgia comes up behind me and kneels down, dunking the cup in the water to fill it up.
“Head back for me.”
Heart beating a mile a minute, panic rises as the pieces finally come together in my mind. “This isn’t necessary, I’m fine.”
“Head back,” she repeats, tone sterner this time, so I do it. After she soaks my hair, she grabs a bottle of shampoo—hershampoo—from the shelf next to the tub, squeezing a glob into her palm.
“Georgia, you don’t have to wash me. I promise, I can do it myself.”
Breathing out a laugh, she says, “Will you just hush and let me do this? My gosh, you’re even worse than me at this.”
I clench my jaw and roll my lips together, saying nothing, as she brings her hands to my head. She massages the shampoo through the strands, fingernails gently scraping along my scalp. It feels fucking good, I’ll admit. After rinsing the suds, she works conditioner in next, occasionally humming to the music. Neither one of us says anything for a while, but by the time she moves to the side of the tub and begins washing my chest with a washcloth, I can’t take the silence anymore.
“Do you bathe all the men you peg?” I blurt out.That’s what I went with?
Her gaze lifts to mine. “No, actually, I don’t think I’ve ever bathed anybody before.”
Why does that make my stomach flutter?Goddamnit, Fletcher. Get it together.
“What about you?” I then ask. “Let people do this to you?”
She snorts. “God no.”
Georgia is thorough as she cleans my chest and arms, making sure to even get my armpits. Then her hand disappears under the water, running the sudsy washclothlower, and suddenly, I can’t breathe. My body heats, and it has nothing to do with the temperature of the water as she reaches my groin. She washes my cock and balls, her touch gentle. Gritting my teeth, I will myself to think ofanythingto keep from getting hard, but it’s no use. My body is on fire as my dick swells up right beside her hand, and when I glance at her, I notice the flush to her cheeks, but neither of us acknowledges it.
Working her way down my left leg, she washes it before switching to my right. As she comes back up, the washcloth brushes over the tip of my cock, and I suck in a sharp breath through my nose. Georgia’s heated eyes find mine, full lips parted as she wraps her hand around my stiff dick. Pleasure swims through my veins as she holds my gaze and strokes me from base to tip. Her grip is firm as she pumps me slowly.
