You Deserve Each Other - Sarah Hogle Page 0,73

and I’m not complaining about any of it. Being wilderness bros with Leon and playing with axes and power tools has been kind to him. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Taking a shower.”

“I’m already in here.”

“Good for you.”

Nicholas completely ignores my shock. I’m a modest and innocent puritan lady, and he’s out to steal my virtue. My mind flashes to previous episodes of not wearing clothes with Nicholas and it’s a good thing the water’s so hot, or he’d be able to tell I’m blushing. I remember how his mother has deluded herself into believing he’s a virgin, and I smirk before I can help it.

Nicholas cocks an eyebrow at me as he slides open the door and steps inside. I wait for his gaze to lower, but it doesn’t. He shakes his head in amusement, probably because I’m still trying to cover myself, then turns and starts lathering himself up with soap.

I don’t move. I need to wash my hair but that would require the use of my hands. I decide to face opposite him, minimizing what he can see. The back’s not as interesting as the front, I think.

I’m wrong about that, which becomes glaringly apparent when I catch our reflections in the shower door. He’s looking at me. My gaze slides below his waist without my permission and it’s clear he’s found something about his view to appreciate.

“Don’t look at me,” I hiss.

His laugh is deep and rich-sounding in the acoustics of our foggy bathroom. “I’m not.”

“Yes, you are.”

“How do you know unless you’re looking, too?” He reaches for my conditioner.

I spin around and take it from him. “This is mine and it’s expensive. Get your own.” He smiles like he wants to laugh because I’ve slipped up with the placement of my hands, so I quickly cover his eyes. He squints under my palm, nose scrunching.

“I can still see.”

“Jesus.” I turn around again.

“Yes?”

I want to stomp on his foot. My only course of action here is to hurry up so I can escape. I try to bend over a little to make myself smaller, because in my mind that gives him less to see, sneaking glances at him in the shower door. He’s washing himself more slowly than he ever has in his life, staring openly. I think he’s trying to get me flustered. If so, it’s working. I slip a hand behind me, trying to span my fingers over my rear and block him from anything enjoyable, which just makes him laugh again.

“Close your eyes,” I demand.

“Okay.”

He doesn’t close his eyes.

“Close them!”

“I did.”

(He didn’t.)

I need to rinse my hair, but he’s standing directly under the spray, giving me very little room to maneuver. I plant a hand on his chest and he’s immediately compliant, falling back. Nicholas’s skin is hot satin under my fingertips, responding to my touch with goose bumps and a quickening pulse. I want to sink my nails into the slightest bit of give his flesh offers, but right now every flinch, every step and turn and tilt conveys a primal message. He’s waiting for the signal that says Help yourself to whatever you want. Don’t be wasteful. Lick me up to the last drop.

To prevent myself from extending an invitation I’m too much of a chicken to deliver on, I keep my eyes shut while I rinse my hair, hand motionless against his chest to make sure he can’t come closer. When I open my eyes again, his gaze is flame, jaw white and set, and I imagine cracks running up the bone all the way to the top of his skull. Mist pearls in his lashes and brows, sweat cropping along the bridge of his nose and the hollows in his cheeks. He’s a ripple of heat and with one gesture from me he’ll gladly roast me alive. My heart goes tha-thump: a wild, winged creature in my rib cage. He looks like he’s about to lose it and I won’t lie, I’m a bit unnerved by what he might do.

It’s been twelve weeks since I’ve had sex. Twelve weeks for Nicholas, too, if he hasn’t been cheating on me.

The image of him sleeping with another woman and me catching him in the act doesn’t inspire the same victorious feeling that it once did. It throws a bucket of ice water over all of my pounding, light-headed need-you, take-me while liquid fury chases through my bloodstream, synapses shorting out. If I discover him cheating on me in a shopping mall

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