He started fiddling with knobs and I stepped to the side.
"Don't get my hair wet either."
Ben glanced at me, staring at my vibrant red hair. "Why?"
"Because it takes four or five hair products, a special brush, a blow dryer, a high-end flat iron, and about thirty minutes to tame my hair into this mane. If I don't have any one of those things, I look like a poodle that went through a car wash followed by a hurricane."
The corner of his mouth twitched, but he didn't say anything. Instead, he started the shower with only the jets on the walls turning on, which were all body-level rather than the overhead ones.
"What's with the orgy shower?" I asked him as he adjusted the water to the perfect temperature.
He laughed and shook his head. "No, I get dirty and sore between workouts and the shop. It's a little easier to get clean this way and I can loosen up my tense muscles."
"I guess I can see the efficiency."
Lies, lies. All lies. This was a hedonistic paradise made for orgies and water conservation wasn't a concern. We both knew it.
He grabbed a bottle of shampoo off the shelf and dumped a little in his hand. "Sure you don't want me to wash your hair."
I narrowed my eyes at him. "Not if you want to keep that hand."
He grinned and started rubbing the shampoo over his own short hair. "Are you always this feisty after an orgasm?"
I watched as the suds ran down his neck and shoulders, slithering over his pectorals and abdominals. Jesus Christ, watching him wash his hair was better than porn.
"Nope. I'm usually really mellow until someone forces me to get out of bed and take a shower."
When he reached for the bottle of body wash sitting next to the shampoo, I took it from him.
"Since I'm here, I might as well enjoy myself," I said.
"Have at it," Ben said, giving the bottle up without a fight.
I poured some of the body wash into my palm and rubbed my hands together. I started with his shoulders, running my hands down his biceps and forearms then coming back up to sweep my palms over his chest.
"Turn around," I said.
Ben's mouth curved upward but he did as I said. God, his back was a work of art, just like his front. I winced a little when I saw the scratches on his shoulder blades. They weren't bleeding, just red welts.
"Uh, sorry about your back," I mumbled.
He chuckled under his breath. "Got me with your nails?" he asked.
"Um, yeah."
"Don't worry about it. They don't hurt."
I slid my hands down his spine to his waist and he sighed. The muscles of his back relaxed and he raised his hands to the wall, leaning forward.
"That feels good," he said.
I stepped forward until my breasts brushed his back and let my hands slip around his waist and lower. He was already partially erect and he groaned when I wrapped my soapy fingers around him.
His hips moved in tandem with my hand, meeting each stroke as he grew harder and harder.
I pressed closer to him, the soap on his back slippery against my nipples. Ben grabbed my hand, stopping the motion.
"My turn."
Thirty minutes later, my hair was still damp and would likely resemble a frizz ball when it was all said and done, but I was once again too high on pleasure to care that it had gotten wet in the first place.
I wore one of Ben's t-shirts and my underwear. The tee covered the essentials, but clung to my breasts and hips, which Ben seemed to appreciate. I sat on the counter and watched as he made me a grilled cheese sandwich in a skillet. A glass of Dr. Pepper sat next to my hip and I sipped it from a straw as I watched him cook for me.
And I swear the sight was turning me on all over again.
He stood in front of the stove, wearing nothing but a pair of athletic pants that rode low on his hips. His hair was also damp and messy, but I was pretty sure it was going to look a lot sexier than mine once it was dry.