Before she’d taken a second step, he’d pulled her in and closed the glass door with the two of them inside. Before she could conceivably explain why she was here, he layered her against his hot, wet body and leveled a kiss on her.
If she’d just known she was going to do this crazy-fool thing, she’d have worn her black lace bra and matching panties, definitely not the pale yellow set from Target, on sale. She’d brushed her teeth. She just hadn’t remembered the right clothes. She always remembered the right clothes for the occasion.
Only…well, it seemed the bra and thong were soaked in two seconds anyway. So was the rest of her. If she was going to drown in there, what possible difference could it make if she wasn’t wearing her best bra?
And then the bra was gone. Tossed over the shower door.
Warm water splashed in her eyes, forcing her to close them…while Mike kept kissing her, swinging her against the warm, damp smooth wall, pinning her there. He held her hands flat against the tile, using his body to touch, to stroke, to incite. He groaned when his mouth left hers, only to trail a wreath of kisses down her throat.
He lifted her as if she weighed nothing, making it natural for her to wind her legs around his waist. When the nest between her legs rubbed against his belly, he swore. Then swore a second time when he nuzzled his cheeks between her breasts.
She recognized the tone in his voice. He was making that anger sound that she’d experienced earlier. That vibrant anger. That infuriating, impatient, zesty anger.
Who knew he’d feel the same? Her heart opened in a shattering crack. She hadn’t let anyone inside in forever. Hadn’t trusted anyone, possibly ever, not this way. He’d been strung tight with denying what he needed, what he wanted. That ferocious hunger and yearning, to touch and be touched, was better denied than answered from the cold distance that came from failing marriages. Sex without trust had made her heart sore and scared.
But with Mike…it was right. The way it hadn’t been right in a long time. He liked her. He valued her. It showed in his touch, his taste, his tenderness…his wildness.
He came up for a hoarse breath, asked, “Molly?”
She motioned outside the shower. “Brought monitor.”
“Birth control?”
“What, you don’t store condoms in the shower, waiting for me?”
He laughed, but it sounded a whole lot more like a groan. She rewarded him with a tiny bite from his ear. “I was giving up birth control, since I never planned to need it. Ever. Again. Until you. But for now I’ve got the long-term patch.”
“Good.”
That seemed to end the conversation. At least, he lost interesting in talking. So did she.
The damn man found the showerhead hose. She saw his sudden grin, saw his hand shoot up, grab the attachment by the showerhead. He eased her onto the tile floor, crossed her legs over his, and then played, pelting her throat, her tummy, her spine, between her legs…with warm, pulsing water. Well, if he was in the mood to torture and tease…she was more than capable of stealing the hose and taking her turn. His laughter provoked another shattering crack in her heart. He was laughing with her. Sharing with her. It wasn’t using.
It was giving.
And suddenly, as much fun-and teasing-as their playing had been, suddenly she wanted his hands. His skin. Him. Nothing between them.
His eyes darkened, sharpened. The water was still warm, blindingly warm, when he palmed her fanny, snuggled her closer, aimed inside. He slid in slowly, all slick slippery warmth, watching her reaction as he began a careful stroke…until he was all the way in. Slow turned into a canter, than a galloping hurry. She had a fearsome sensation of falling, a buildup of want so explosive, so consuming that she feared it would never end, never be over, never be appeased.
He whispered encouragement, praise, promise. When she peaked, her head fell back on a near scream…and he followed with an exultant groan as deep as hers.
She tried to breathe again, but couldn’t. She stayed wrapped around him like a scarf, her head in the crook of his shoulder, her body limp and wildly sated, not wanting to move…but the water started turning cool.
They both let out a yelp. He lifted his head. “I wondered when we’d run out of hot water. Darn it.”
She was suddenly freezing. He was, too. He flipped off the faucets, helped her to her feet, and grabbed the thick gray towel to wrap around her. He had to step outside to find another. Towels were heaped in a basket on the floor; he took a black one for himself, but he wasn’t concerned with drying himself off.
Instead, he rubbed her down until she was warm, kissing her brow, her neck, her shoulder en route. “I’m not afraid of much, Red. But I was afraid of this.”
“Afraid of…?”
“Afraid that we’d be this good. I was hoping-if we did this-that it’d be kind of a clunker. Good, but not crazy good, so we could just get it out of our heads, go back to the friend thing, knowing the chemistry wasn’t that bad of a problem.”
She said, “For me. I’m afraid it’s a mighty big problem.”
For that, she got another kiss. On the nose. And a shine in his eyes that could have kindled fire. “You’re not kidding. That was beyond anything I remember, Amanda. So now you’ve made our whole chemistry dilemma even worse.”
“Hey. You were the one who dared me!”
His shaggy eyebrows arched. “Huh? You were the one doing all the daring. The way you walked. The way you looked at me. The way you smiled. The whole thing.”
“I never did anything. It was you. Sending me those looks all the time.”
“Hmm. So…is that what suddenly made you…come over here to climb in my shower out of the complete blue tonight?”
She looked at him, through wet hair and a smile that refused to stop coming. “No, Mike,” she said softly. “I came over because…”
Startling both of them, Molly’s voice suddenly crackled from the monitor on the counter. “Mom! Mommy! There’s a lizard in the door! He’s coming in here!”
Amanda sucked in a breath, but Mike was already shaking his head. “Don’t worry about it for a minute. Of course you have to go. But I’d like to finish that conversation.”
“Breakfast. My deck.” But that was all she had time to say. Still wearing his towel, she plucked up her clothes, sprinted through his house and out the back door. Outside, it was darn near freezing on her bare feet and wet hair-but she ran like lightning, pelted into her own house.
“Mommy!”
She’d forgotten to bring the monitor back, but it didn’t matter. She could hear Molly’s voice for herself now.
“I’m coming, honey!” She traded Mike’s gray towel for a butterfly one from the downstairs bathroom, and scooted up the stairs. Out of breath, she paused in Molly’s doorway. “I was taking a shower, honey. I need to put on a nightgown and I’ll be right in.”
“It’s a horrible lizard. Purple and orange. With glasses. And pointy feet. I’m not afraid. But he was going to hurt you, Mommy. So I have to come sleep with you.”
It wasn’t how she hoped to end the evening, snuggled in a narrow twin bed with a four-year-old, Princess and Darling. Yet her daughter and the dog and kitten all slept as soundly as zombies.
She didn’t. Her heart was still racing, her mind spinning, Mike’s name humming in every beat of her pulse. Maybe she’d done the wrong thing. Maybe she’d done the right.
She was frighteningly unsure how this could possibly turn out well for both of them.
But she didn’t regret what happened. Didn’t, wouldn’t, couldn’t.
Amanda woke up in a tantalizingly high mood…until she glanced at the clock. Molly, Princess and Darling were already out and about somewhere, but the princess clock beside her daughter’s bed claimed it was eight. Which meant she could have company from next door for breakfast before she’d had a chance to brush her teeth, much less to make anything to feed the four of them.