Page 55 of My Sweetest Obsession
Because I don’t have a fucking clue what I’m doing.
I’ve never shaved a woman before, and the way my hands are shaking, I probably shouldn’t even be attempting it right now. Because if I hurt her more than I already have, I don’t think I could survive it.
She bites her bottom lip as she watches me, and I press the razor against her right ankle and slowly glide it up, holding my breath the entire time.
Somehow, I manage to make it up the smooth expanse of her thigh without breaking skin, and I release a relieved breath as I finally pull it away to rinse it under the water pounding against my back.
I rinse off the razor and shave another strip.
And another.
Another.
With each one, I grow a little less worried that I’m going to maim her, and I cautiously make my way around one leg, then the other. Trying to concentrate on keeping my strokes long and slow rather than the aggressive, determined ones I use when painting—or fucking.
Ivy trembles, her muscles tensing and quivering directly in front of my face in a way that ignites heat in very inappropriate places.
She’s very wet.
And very naked.
And incredibly fucking beautiful.
And right in front of me.
So fucking close I could lean an inch and have my face buried in her sweet cunt.
But that isn’t what this is about.
It’s about ending her distress, offering her what I can, even when it’s woefully inadequate.
Another apology in the only way I know how to offer it…
When I’m finally done and have washed the remnants of the shaving cream off her smooth skin, I look up at her and offer the tiniest smile.
She lets her lip fall from between her teeth and glances down, but I know she can’t see much of anything because of her growing stomach. Her hand drifts to the dark thatch of hair at the apex of her legs, and air catches in my throat on a strangled groan.
Fuck…
I swallow thickly and stare up at her. Water clings to her thick, dark lashes, but I can’t tell whether it’s from the shower or her tears.
Likely a combination of both.
But—at least for the moment—her tears have stopped.
Only what’s replaced them is even more dangerous.
Another distressing need swims in her heated gaze.
I rest my hand over hers, skimming my thumb through the hair covering her pussy. “Do you want me to shave you here, too?”
The tiniest whimper slips from her lips, and she nods.
Sweet. Fuck.
Ivy knows what she’s asking, yet she’s asking it anyway.
I let out a long breath, trying to stop my heart from pounding and my hands from trembling before I take on this monumentally stupid task.
