Aw! Wasn’t he sweet? She touched her hair—putting it all in a clip helped, but making out like porn stars in a Jacuzzi had done damage. The long, sleek look she preferred was slowly morphing into the masses of loose curls God gave her.
“Ladies first,” he motioned with a courtly bow.
Dancing her fingertips across his torso, Summer smiled and stepped carefully into the large shower stall. “Wow,” she exclaimed. “This is bigger than my entire bathroom! So much room for activities.”
Arnie joined her and extended his arms. The guy’s wingspan was impressive and illustrated just how big the space was. “I’m not a fan of claustrophobia.” He motioned to the tile walls and made a face. “Needs a bench seat—someplace to sit.”
Three large, deep niches in the tiled wall provided ample space for shower products. One had an assortment of high-end salon products supplied by the hotel spa. Another held Arnie’s personal stuff. She reached for one of the body washes and sniffed.
“Ooh, this is nice.” She turned it in her hand and read the label. “Number sixty-three?”
“Careful with that.” He took the bottle out of her hands and cradled it gently. “This is the expensive shit.”
She blinked and stared at his face in the steamy shower light. It was hard to know if he was kidding. Her eyes darted to another of the shower niches—the one behind his shoulder.
“Expensive?” she queried. “Is it more or less costly than the bottle of Dove Men Care?”
His head quickly swiveled, and he chuckled when he saw the drug store body wash. “Oh, ha. Yeah. Well, let’s see. The Dove is about nine bucks, so the sixty-three is that much plus half.”
She did the math. Half of nine was four and a half, so the yummy smelling shampoo and body wash was around fourteen dollars. She found the incongruity of a man wearing eight-hundred-dollar shoes, driving a borrowed Tesla, and having a private bungalow at a fancy hotel with a bunch of brand-name drugstore products quite funny.
“I like the scent,” she informed him. “Classic. Manly. It suits you.”
“Thanks. I rather like it, and as a bonus, Amazon carries it. But let’s find something less Sasquatchy for you. I don’t think the furry man’s approach suits this moment.”
“You are hardly a Sasquatch,” she teased while they perused the hotel products.
“It’s the blond coloring,” he told her. “Hides a lot.”
He was full of shit, but she let it go. She sniffed a body wash labeled Sensual Harmony and knew it was her new favorite thing. “This one,” she told him.
He took it out of her hand and told her to rinse off. She moved beneath the spray and sighed as the warm water caressed her body. While she raised her arms and directed the spray where she needed it, he soaked a big squishy body sponge and poured out a glob of the body wash.
“Ladies first.” Gesturing with the sponge, he directed her to turn around. She moved away from the spray and gave Arnie her back.
The steam built around them, and as he gently swirled the sponge and body wash from neck to waist, Summer willed her body to stand down. She was keyed up and finding it hard to hold her thoughts for longer than a few seconds. Was it the incredible sex or the fascinating man causing her brain to short-circuit?
When the sponge moved to her ass and she heard him growl, the answer was a tie. If she couldn’t concentrate for more than a few seconds, it was due to equal parts Arnie and his wicked sexual magnetism.
“What is it with men and butts?” she asked over her shoulder.
His face was adorable as he tried to act as though he wasn’t salivating over her bottom. She might be new to this, but she hadn’t been living under a rock her whole life. Butt sex was something her gal friends whispered about with interest, but it wasn’t something she’d given much thought to until now. Arnie wasn’t exactly hiding his desire, and she wouldn’t mind a little exploring, but the size of his manhood gave her pause.
He chuckled. The sound was deep and sexy. “I can’t answer for the rest of mankind, but I’d be lying like a rug if I said taking your ass wasn’t extremely tempting.”
As it was, she was already in over her head, so she let the matter drop.
A tingle of nervousness erupted in her belly when Arnie crouched behind her and stroked her thighs. She didn’t care what anyone said—no woman was comfortable when her rear view took up the whole viewfinder.
“You have fantastic legs,” he murmured.
“The result of nervous energy,” she stammered. Closing her eyes, she mouthed, “Fuck,” and marveled at how stupid she sounded.
“It’s more than that,” he scolded. “You’re a natural athlete. It shows in how you move.”
The sponge swiped up and down her calves. Each time he got close to the backs of her knees, she quivered. The awareness took her by surprise. Suddenly, she wanted to feel Arnie’s lips and tongue on her skin.
As he rose behind her, one of his hands caressed one thigh and hip while the other hand swiped the sponge up the inside of her legs. When he got near her pussy, she flinched.
“What’s wrong?”
She turned slowly and met his concerned frown with a shy smirk. Touching his chest to reassure her powerful lover, Summer calmly told him what he probably needed to know.
“Nothing is wrong. I’m just a little, um …”
“Sore?” he practically shouted. “Have I hurt you?”
Good grief, he was kind of fearsome when he got all big and bad. She hurried to change the vibe before he said or did something dumb.
“No,” she snarled. “You did not hurt me, and I’m not sore.”
Both statements were only partially true. Hadn’t she begged him to make it hurt? As for the soreness, with a simple word change, she could coax him down from the ledge.
“I’m sensitive down there, is all,” she assured him in a firm voice. Gently taking the sponge, Summer winked. “Since I know the layout, why don’t I do the cleanup?”
He appeared stunned, and in those few seconds, Summer knew with total certainty that despite his charm and grown-up ways, Arnie was on square one with a real-world female. He was boyishly adorable and clueless. Insisting on special consideration for her girly bits was new territory for him. She grinned.
Using the sponge between her legs was about as appealing as using sandpaper for a washcloth, so she squeezed a handful of suds into her hand and gently cleansed her swollen flesh.
Aware of his steady perusal, she went through the ritual and spread her legs for access. Cupping water into her hand, she rinsed the area several times. It felt heavenly, and although she had some tenderness, it wasn’t unpleasant and was actually all kinds of sexy.
“There,” she told him with a triumphant smile. “Nice and easy.”
He took the sponge, rinsed it, and piled on another glob of wash. “That was quite instructive.”
His drawl was drop-dead sexy as fuck, and she giggled with delight. His response reaffirmed her belief that he was as much a novice in this as she was.
In a deadpan tone, she said, “We’ll do you next so you can show me the proper way to man wash.”
“Man wash?” he barked with chuckling amusement. “I like how you think.”
“It’s a goddess slut thing.” She snickered.
He took her into the circle of one arm and studiously washed her boobs without getting her head soaked. She gave him credit for making an effort.
In a talk show host voice, he said, “Now, to be honest, a proper man wash can be done a couple of different ways. Ball licking followed by a cock spit shine does the trick.”
She giggled, and asked, “Does the gagging ruin things?”
“Fuck no,” his voice boomed. “It’s the gag reflex that triggers the saliva lava flow. All that gooey spit serves a purpose.”
“Lubrication,” she stated in a serious but obviously playful tone.
His eyes glittered. One brow went up, and a wicked smirk played on his lips. “I sense you’ve b
een doing your homework.”
She shrugged nonchalantly and watched his fingers pluck at her nipples. “The mechanics are fascinating. Did you know during the female’s arousal stage, the vagina swells and dilates? Explains why you feel so wonderful.”
“Your pussy fits like a glove. The friction is incredible. You’re so fucking tight.”
The washing-up portion of the program switched to sudsy fondling. She loved the way he touched her and didn’t want him to stop.
“What’s it like?” she asked breathlessly. “Being inside me?”
He moved his hips. Hyperaware of a very hard cock brushing against her hip, Summer wanted to explore him with her hand, but she couldn’t because of the way he held her.
“It’s like nothing I’ve ever known. A biological truth about the straight male of our species is that the cock has but one preference. Pussy. That’s it,” he admitted with a sigh. “That’s the sole preference. And it was for me until a golden girl made fun of my shoes. You’ve ruined me, Summer.”
A giggle shot out of her mouth. “You mean having sex with a virgin ruined you.”
He made an acknowledging face, and added, “I’m not going to pretend I’ve been a choir boy about sex. I’m almost forty.” He shrugged. “But this feels different, and no, not just because I took your virginity. You wanna know what it feels like to sink my cock inside you?”
She nodded jerkily and hung on every word.
“My very sexy virgin goddess slut likes penetration. Your body demands it. When you hold your breath as my cock enters?” He growled. “It’s hot as fuck, Summer. The way you grab hold and suck me in.”
He put a hand on her neck. She stared in his eyes.
“My golden girl likes to fuck. The harder the thrust, the hotter and wetter you get.”
He kept hold of her neck, leaned close, and spoke against her lips.
“Your sweet pussy trembles, and I don’t care if saying this next thing makes me a pig, but here it is. I like your surrender. It turns me on. There’s no pretending. No games. You want my cock and don’t try to hide the desire, so when you come, it’s incredible. The heat wipes my mind, and the way your muscles clench to claim me is something I feel in my soul.”
Things shifted inside her. Discovering that she and her lover shared her climax and experienced it on a soul-deep level opened Summer’s eyes and heart. No matter how it looked, they weren’t just having sex. Other things were in play besides serendipity and whatever moon phase they were in.
It didn’t make sense, and she didn’t care.
“Alright, enough talk.” He chortled while changing their shower game.
Pressing the sponge into her hands, she clutched it in surprise before it ended up at her feet.
“I’m feeling round two.” The words hung in the air as he stuck his face beneath the spray of water.
Summer blinked, frowned, looked at the sponge, and hurried her brain along as she tried to read his signals. Round two? Oh, dear. Her lady parts pulsed at the thought even though there was no doubt she needed a time-out from the thundering physicality of their couplings.
Water dripped down his grinning face when he stepped away from the spray toward her. The guy was hot times a million.
No, change that. He was hot times a gazillion with plenty leftover.
“Are you as hungry as I am?” His voice was low and intimate.
“Uh.” Her face moved with a wince. “What?”
Reaching for the No. 63 body wash, he took hold of her wrist and turned her hand. Squeezing the soap onto the sponge, he murmured, “I’ve got you figured out at last.”
“You do?” she stammered, unsure of the subject matter.
“Yep. Your natural horsepower and torque require neutral intervals plus copious amounts of fuel.”
“You just compared me to a car.”
“I’m so glad you got the reference,” he drawled with dimpled charm. “The point I’m making is this—you eat every few hours. It’s fascinating because I don’t think you’re aware of the pattern.”
He took the hand holding the dripping sponge and placed it on his chest.
“I came prepared,” he told her. “Since it seemed a good bet that dinner would take place in stages, what’s waiting in the dining room will be hot and delicious. But first, get busy, baby. I have a lot of square footage.”
“I’m letting you off the hook with the car reference, this time,” she told him with a look. “But try that shit again, and you can stop dreaming about my ass.”
Arnie’s husky laugh bounced off the tile walls and filled the stall with his uniquely joyful boyishness.
Scrubbing his glorious chest was no hardship, and she could have kept it up all day because he was that hot, but he wasn’t having it and started issuing commands. When he raised an arm and draped his big hand down his back, she lathered up his armpit and marveled at the man’s musculature. All that hard body goodness wasn’t just for show. He was hard and lean with an enticing physical symmetry that got her juices flowing.
She slid behind him out of self-preservation so she could catch her breath. Since every part of him was so beautiful, staring at the broad expanse of his back seemed like the way to go if she needed a visual time-out. The minute she swiped the sponge from muscled shoulder to muscled shoulder, she knew she was wrong to assume a different view would be less arousing.
Summer sighed with longing. His perfectly tapered torso and magnificent butt gave her the swoons. She drew soapy circles on each butt cheek and wished there were a way to capture the visual of suds dripping down his legs. It’d make a great screen saver.
She was on one knee washing his calves when he turned, and his manhood wagged in her face.
“Finish up,” he drawled with way too much amusement.
Oh, yeah? She thought with equal amusement. Well, buckle up, Adonis, ’cause two can play.
Calling on the skills she picked up as a junior volunteer assisting the nursing staff at her local hospital, she went about washing his private parts like an old-school candy striper.
Having more fun than was probably decent, she enthusiastically applied the sudsy sponge to every inch and hidden fold. Her up close and personal vantage point showed her more than how big he was. For the first time, she really noticed the latticework of surgical stitching from the horrible accident he’d survived.
Aghast at how close he came to losing his junk, Summer trembled as she imagined the horror he went through.
Her touch gentled, and she dropped the sponge in favor of her hands. It wasn’t a surprise that he noticed her reaction—he was intuitive. With a finger beneath her chin, he lifted until she met his eyes. Her expression must have shown the anguish she was feeling.
It said something about the man he was when he didn’t avoid, deny, or make light of what she knew had been an awful experience.
“Yes, it was hell. Hearing terms like ‘scrotal trauma’ scare the shit out of a guy. My recovery wasn’t pretty, and before you ask, yes, there’s a whole story to that too. But as you know firsthand, all the necessary parts are fully functional, thank god.” He caressed her cheek and smirked. With a shrug, he said, “These days, it seems like fertility is a crapshoot no matter how you look at it, so at the end of the day, it’s no harm, no foul. Operating at fifty percent is what it is.”
She hated how casual he sounded but managed a nod. Could she have stopped fondling him with her sudsy hands? Sure, but she didn’t.
Since he’d brought the subject up—more or less—she felt compelled to comment. “We’ve been careless,” she murmured. “Some would say stupid.”
“Playing with fire has a way of making one do dumb things.”
“I like the fire,” she admitted in a half-whisper.
There wasn’t a lot to say after that. She made a production out of rinsing them both off and led the way from the stall.
“Fluffy white towels are the epitome of decadence,” she informed him with a giggle as they dried off
. “I don’t know why, but it’s true.”
Arnie balled up a towel and dried her back. “None of my bathroom towels match, and for some reason, all the washcloths disappear. They’re like socks. I don’t get it.”
The sound of bachelor honesty made her secretly smile.
“Are we getting dressed for dinner or what?” Summer considered the hazard of trying to wear a towel. Her boobs rarely cooperated.
He took her hand and dragged her to the bathroom nook where two white robes embroidered with the Four Seasons logo hung. Helping her slide into the smaller robe, he tugged on the tie belt as she laughed.
“This is my first time in a hotel robe!” She twirled around and laughed. “It feels naughty.”
“It’s a good look for you.”
“Hotel vixen? Ah ha ha!”
In the dining room, they explored the covered buffet like excited kids. Arnie dug with gusto into a platter of cutlets and a pan of beef braciola. A kitschy metal cauldron of wedding soup and red, cheesy pasta called to her taste buds. Italian cuisine was her all-time favorite. How did he know?
It was fun and relaxing to pig out, drink yummerific red wine, and share life stories. Her soul felt weightless. The sensation of floating through eternity at the side of this man stuck in her head.
“Have you always been a fan of The Brady Bunch? The question needs to be asked because honest to god, Summer, I can’t stop thinking about your sofa.”
Wiping red sauce off her chin, she grinned and crinkled her nose. “My childhood was heavily influenced by my 70s-loving Dad and an older brother who was all about good guys and bad guys. Michelangelo, Raphael, Leonardo, and Donatello were his thing.”
“Ah, the Mutant Ninja Turtles. I know them well.”
“Doesn’t everybody?” she asked with a snort of laughter. “I think The Brady Bunch fascination had a lot to do with growing up without a mother.” She exhaled and grew somber as uncomfortable memories rolled through her. “There was a time when I hoped Dad would find a Carol to love so we could have a big, happy family.”
“That never happened?”
An avalanche of truths flooded her mind. This matter was deeply personal and was far more involved than a casual remark about her father’s love life. For anyone else, she would have deflected or made an inane comment and moved on, but with Arnie, she spoke so fast that a new land-speed record must have been set.
Finding Summer (Nightwind Book 3) Page 18