Page 135 of Play Dirty (Brooklyn Dawn 1)

He lifted an eyebrow at me, his face lacking expression. The stark emotion that had been bleeding from him before was shored up behind his mask again. Cool blue eyes under raven’s wing black eyebrows matched his ultra-tanned skin. I burned and freckled a little. Nash? Nope, he looked more like he’d spent the last two weeks on the beach rather than the studio I knew he’d been haunting.

He didn’t bother taking off his jacket or hat. Nope, he was just waiting me out.

I wanted to smack the blankness right off his face.

Instead, I turned around and crossed the room to the stairs.

“Duchess.”

I ignored him and sprinted up the stairs with my wine glass. I heard him sigh, but instead of giving chase, he slowly followed.

“Just leave.”

“I’m not going anywhere without you.”

“Well, then you’ll be spending the night on that couch or the floor, because I’m not going anywhere.”

I heard his footsteps on the stairs. The light squeak on the fourth stair that I always avoided told me he was right behind me.

I set my wine glass down just inside my bedroom, shrugged off my jacket, and tossed it on the chaise in my sitting area. I tapped the iPad mini that was charging on the small table. The lights came on, slowly floating from the main space to the lamps next to my bed and finally, to the bathroom.

I stripped out of my travel clothes, leaving a trail of cotton and denim in my wake.

Surprisingly, I heard Nash swear and pick them up.

Odd.

But I simply didn’t care. I needed to wash off this night. I couldn’t even think about my huge jet tub right now. I needed the cross-body shower heads to get the job done. My face was sticky with tears and leftover makeup and who knows what else from the flight.

I stepped inside, closing the large glass door behind me. It was pre-programmed with my per

sonal settings. The blisteringly hot water was this side of scalding and I couldn’t get enough of it. I pressed both palms to the marble tiles and tipped my head down to let the water stream down my neck and pummel my back.

I don’t know how long I stood like that. I practically swayed with exhaustion. Then the door opened and he stood there. My eyes tracked behind him where his clothes were neatly folded on the counter.

He closed the door behind him and hissed at the temperature. Instead of speaking, he reached for the bottles of bodywash and shampoos and conditioners. He thumbed through them slowly, bringing them up to his nose before finally pouring some into his hand. He started with the roots of my hair along the nape of my neck and worked his way up until my whole head was a mass of bubbles.

I stiffened against the intimacy, but my level of exhaustion couldn’t fight Alex in a giving mood. He was an intense sexual partner with small moments of softness. He gave orgasms easier than he gave sweetness.

I didn’t have the armor for this Alex.

He eased me under the rain hood to rinse the lather away before he selected another bottle and repeated the soothing movements with my conditioner. My curls secretly thanked him even as the woman inside me yearned for what else he had to give.

The hair of his thighs brushed along my ass as he eased me back against him for a moment. He draped my hair over my shoulder to trail over my breasts. Then he left me to rummage through the admittedly huge shelf of products in my shower. I caught myself shooting a bemused glance at him as he sniffed and recapped many things before settling on my preferred scent.

I swallowed a laugh when he squeezed his huge hand into one of my washing mitts and coated it with my Tom Ford shower gel. I couldn’t even complain. There would be suds for days, but he was trying.

Something I never thought he’d ever do.

The steamy air filled with the spicy night blossoms of the Black Orchid scent I’d been wearing for the last few years. His hands weren’t gentle as he kneaded into locked muscles I didn’t realize I had.

The warmth of the shower, his touch, and the steam eased me into an almost trance-like state. I was floating on the bliss of relaxation when his touch slowly eased to whisper soft. At some point, he’d ditched the mitt for his hands. The light calluses on his fingertips made me shiver.

He was hard for me.

I could feel it slipping between my thighs and along the cleft of my ass. But he didn’t seem inclined to slide into me, even if it would be the sweetest way for us to connect. Instead, it was all give and no take.

Maybe that was what finally released the dam.

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