Third Time's a Charm (Holland Springs #3)(3)

Throwing open the bathroom door, she skidded to a halt when she saw his wavy outline through the shower curtain. She placed a hand on her chest. “Good grief, I thought you fell.”

He slid the curtain to one side, a mischievous grin on his gorgeous face. “I dropped the soap. Care to get it for me?”

She narrowed her eyes. “Pick it up yourself.”

“Didn’t you need to take a shower, too?”

“No.”

“You had mud all over your very nice bottom,” he pointed out, the compliment making her flush.

“I changed.”

“Shame, I was so looking forward to you joining me,” Sasha said as he bent over to pick up the bar of homemade soap. He stood, propping himself against the window above the claw-foot tub and gingerly moved the soap over his skin. Steaming hot water ran down his body, washing away the suds, blood and grime, revealing his lean, muscular form. The large cross tattoo on his bicep contracted and expanded with his movements. Gold nipple rings flashed in the morning sun.

Heat flared in the pit of her stomach. She’d kissed those rings. Put her lips around them and tickled his nipples with her tongue. She whirled around to face the sink. And the conveniently placed mirror above it.

“Generally, I shower alone.” Generally…Really, couldn’t she have just said I always shower alone or—better still—kept quiet?

He raised his brows, a slight smile at his lips. “And the other times?”

“It’s none of your business.”

“Smart woman to play it close to the vest. I’ve always loved an intelligent female.”

“You love women—period.”

He turned, giving her a full view of his tight butt and she ogled him in the mirror. Most of what she’d thought to be bruises on his body turned out to be dried mud, but all the shallow cuts needed to be treated.

“Like the view?”

Yes! She wanted to lick him up one side and down the other. “I’m only making sure you don’t pass out. Do you know how hard it is to get blood stains out of woven rugs?”

“Your concern is heartwarming,” he drawled.

“Just hurry up. I’ve got other things to do.” She crossed her arms. Apparently, it was her go-to gesture of the day.

“It was your idea, remember?” Their eyes met in the mirror and he chuckled when she looked away, the sound making her heart flip. “I think you like watching me.”

“I think you like being watched,” she grumbled.

“By you? Absolutely.”

She rolled her eyes. A small pot of ointment containing calendula flowers and almond oil sat on the edge of the sink. It was one of Carolina Dreams’ biggest sellers for the men and women who worked two towns over at the paper mill. They swore by its healing properties.

He turned off the shower and stepped out, wrapping a towel around his lean hips. “You can dry me off if you’d like,” he said, peering through his lashes at her and making her fingers itch to do just that.

Did he ever quit being so…him? “I’d like for you to hurry up.”

“Repetition is a sign of distraction, you know.”

“Sit.” She pointed to the chair she’d brought in earlier.

He gave her a lazy smile, doing as she asked. “I’m ready for your tender ministrations.”

She grabbed the small jar, determined to approach him in a completely clinical manner. “Tristan—Dr. Reed gave me some clothes and a pair of shoes for you to change into. He said you could keep them.”

“Boyfriend?” His mouth flattened.

“Nice guy.” Rose stepped closer and applied the lightly scented ointment to his shoulders first, following the lines and contours of sinew. He was pure muscle, smooth skin over iron. She wanted to touch him everywhere he didn’t need the ointment. She traced the cross tattoo on his bicep. The broad planes of his back were next.

After applying more ointment, she gently kneaded it in, and he made small sounds of pleasure. She took her time, rubbing and kneading from left to right. Up, then down.

But she knew she’d eventually have to face him. She peeked over his shoulder. His hands were clenched into two fists and rested on his muscular thighs. Her eyes widened when she saw the outline of his very large erection under the towel.

Swallowing, she rubbed harder.

“Nails, love, watch your nails.” He bent over slightly and put his hands in his lap.

“Sorry.” Taking a deep breath, she walked around to the front of the chair. She expected a flip remark or even a smug grin, but he remained utterly silent and wore a serious expression as she positioned herself between his legs.

The first pass over his chest had her blood racing through her veins. On the second, her knuckles skimmed one of his nipple rings and her blood turned to molasses. Nothing could stop her from touching him again. Her fingers lightly stroked his chest. A soft dusting of toffee-colored hair tickled her skin as she traced the ever-narrowing trail that disappeared under…Her hand froze. She looked away, willing herself to leave the room. Or even step away from him.

But she couldn’t move. The realization that his large hand had clamped around her wrist hit her and she almost dropped the jar. “Did my nails get you again?” she asked, her voice hoarse.

“No,” he said thickly, “I can manage from here.” He plucked the jar from her hand, and she ventured a glance at his face. His cheeks were flushed and his nostrils flared slightly. His talented tongue licked at his bottom lip.