Page 92 of Never Date A Player
Lewis pulls a plain white T-shirt from a dresser and holds it out. “Will this do? I’d give you boxers, but I’m pretty sure they’ll fall off. The shirt should hit your thighs.” His gaze lingers there and I glare at him.
The shirt is simple and clean, but with nothing else on, it won’t cover much. I had planned on going home after the race and didn’t bring a change of clothes. “We did come here to talk, right?”
He sets the T-shirt on the bed. “Yeah, after we clean up. The mud’s starting to itch.”
Good point. I look down and realize I’ve tracked dirt on his clean carpet. I slip off my shoes and take the towel he hands me.
I hold up my splint. “What about this? Do you have a tub in your bathroom? Might be better if I drape my arm over the side.” His eyebrows rise, and I realize it looks like I’m giving him the finger. My lips quirk.
“No tub. But we could wrap it. And I could help you wash.”
Oh I can just imagine how he’d help me. “No way.”
That’s the worst idea I’ve ever heard. I may be naïve, but I’m no amateur.
“It’s not a big deal, Gen. I’ve seen you naked.” He does a terrible job of hiding the mischievous grin that twitches the corners of his mouth.
“You are insane if you think I’m getting naked with you.” That is a recipe for sex. I don’t have that much self-control. Okay, I have none around him.
His grin fades. “This could work, if you try to understand how serious I am about you and give us a chance.”
I shake my head. “Mira?—”
“I’m working on things with Mira. It’s going to be different.”
“You’ve kept me on the outside and I can’t take that. I need a real boyfriend.”
“You’re right, and—” He scratches his arm and dried mud flakes to the floor. “Look, let’s take a shower, then talk. You can even leave your underwear on if you want.”
Nothing about this moment is romantic. I’m not sure taking a shower together is the safest thing, but he’s right, we’ve already seen each other naked. And I’ve already tossed safe out the window. “Fine.”
The master bath is surprisingly large for a small upstairs, the shower taking up an entire wall with a built-in seat. Lewis reaches back and pulls his shirt over his head, his bare chest mesmerizing me for a moment before I wrench my eyes away and unzip my sweatshirt. He tugs down his shorts—and goes completely naked.
“Um?”
He glances up. “You can stay in your panties. I’m getting clean… What? I trust you not to grope me.” He grins.
My jaw drops, eyes narrowing to slits. So that’s how he wants to play this?
I pull off my top, not elegantly, as my damn splint is a bulky bitch, and shimmy out of my yoga capris until I’m only in my panties and sports bra. Lewis does a good job keeping his eyes averted, until I ask for help.
“Can you unhook my bra?” It’s a massive industrial type with a four-prong hook in the back and not at all sexy, but there are boobs underneath. I’m not shying from the challenge he just threw down.
His eyes dip for a fraction of a second, before he schools his features and twirls his finger for me to spin around. The gesture is casual, but the hand that unhooks the clasp shakes and his thumb trails my spine for a moment before lifting. When I turn, he’s looking away adjusting the shower nozzles.
I smirk. He can pretend all he wants, but erections don’t lie.
I slide my panties off and add them to the pile of filthy clothes on his clean slate floor. For some reason, I have the urge to test him, which makes no sense, given I’m the one who wants to keep things platonic, at least until we’ve figured things out. But there’s something about Lewis struggling to keep his hands off me that appeals after all the times I’ve attacked him.
He gestures for me to climb inside, his gaze not straying below my face, though there’s a tension around his eyes that didn’t exist before.
I step into the shower and lower my head under the water, keeping my splinted hand high and out of the stream. Totally forgot to bag it, but it doesn’t matter. Lewis guides me to the side, his front to my back, and does all the work, sudsing my hair with shampoo and massaging my scalp.
My head drops back to his chest and I close my eyes, because, Jesus, his hands feel good. The next thing I know, I’m closer than I thought, and my ass brushes his erection.
His hands still.
I glance back and find his eyes closed. When they open, they’re black and hooded. He starts scrubbing my scalp less gently, more urgently. He rinses out the shampoo and repeats the steps with conditioner, then does the same with his hair.
