Page 61 of Finding the Forward: Part Two
“True. Mostly, I don’t want to work in my sleeping space.” Especially since I liked to create in here.
An open bookcase, filled with books, art supplies, souvenirs from my travels, and things from my hockey days, sectioned off my art studio from the sleeping and living areas. She probably couldn’t see it in the darkness.
“Fair.” She gazed up at me, feeling right in my arms. “Grif might not want me to cross his space to sneak into your room, though.”
“That’s if he wants it. He might not. Even if we redesigned it, it’s a small space, and he’s a large guy. That could beyourhideaway reading nook. You can keep all your books in there,” I chuckled.
The look on her face said she wasn’t averse to the idea. I should give her access to our shopping accounts so she could order replacement things, especially clothing. It had most likely taken her years to build her wardrobe.
Though if she was anything like Jonas, she’d order books first.
I carried her into my bathroom, the low light coming on automatically. Like my bedroom, it was sleek but comfortable, done in white marble and black wood with bronze fixtures. It had a floating sink and a sunken tub with steps that looked out on the city. A pile of soft dark gray towels sat in a hutch by some large plants.
There was also a spacious shower with several safety bars.
“It’s like a luxury spa,” she breathed, taking it all in.
“That’s the point. I got it redesigned when I moved in.” I set her down on the rug in front of my long shower. It was my one big remodel and worth every penny.
I stripped off my shirt and tossed it into the wicker clothes basket. Then I turned on the low shower lights and switched off the others to give us a relaxing glow. At the wall, I programmed the shower. Wisps of lightly scented mist curled into the shower as I warmed it with the steam function.
“I love the bench. Is that a pillow on it? For shower naps?” Verity stood next to me, completely naked. She sniffed the air. “It smells nice in here.”
I took in her muscled abs, her toned legs, and golden breasts. “I like to scent the steam with eucalyptus oil.”
“Fancy.” She grinned.
Picking her up, I opened the glass door and stepped in. Gently, I laid her face down on the long bench, positioned her head on the pillow, then pushed the button on the panel by her head and I got a good look at the little fairy tattoo.
I’d seen the little flower on her inner thigh as I fucked her. The only tattoo I had was our pack tattoo, though Grif and I had talked about getting matching tattoos at some point.
Water cascaded down on her naked back from the six water bars above her. The water would change patterns, intensity, and temperatures as it ran through the sequence.
“It’s a horizontal shower, though I likeshower bedbetter. There are several programs–for waking up, going to sleep, and when my leg really hurts. I can change the program if you don’t like it. Let me know if the temperatures aren’t right,” I told her as I used a short version of the program I’d custom designed for my leg, since our bum legs were on the same side.
“I love it.” Her eyes closed, and the delicious moan that escaped her lips made me want to have her all over again.
Later.
I turned on the overhead rain shower for myself, since it wouldn’t bother her experience. As she laid there, I washed myself off. The shower worked through the program, then returned to simply cascading down her back like she was lying under a waterfall. Verity looked like a goddess from my grandmother’s stories.
“Did you like it?” I asked as I soaped up my hands and ran them over her curves.
She looked up at me, sleepy and satisfied. “Now that is how you shower, Cow Boy.”
“I’m most definitely the winner of our cook-off.” Mercy looked over at us from her perch on the ottoman, smug. She wore some sweats from her high school and a tank top, her wet hair in two braids.
I’d never seen her hair not in two Dutch braids.
I surveyed the remains of our dinner–a platter of three varieties of lamb kabobs, grilled vegetables, bowls of sauces, and rice, which were spread out on the coffee table in the living room. The Knights played the Quebec Étoiles on TV.
“Yours were good, Mercy,” I admitted. It was possibly the best of the three, with its very Greek flair. Who knew the head of a biotech company would have good recipes?
That sauce. The garlic breath was worth it.
“I’m so full. Everyone did such a good job.” Verity curled into me on the couch in some pale blue striped lounge pants and a T-shirt that saidMarquess Fútbolfrom her suitcase.
My hand ran down her shoulder. “I have to say your recipe was excellent.”
