Chapter Thirty-Nine Ivy

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

Ivy

" R owan's in? For sure?" Wade asks as he opens the shower door in his bathroom.

This bathroom is similar to the one I used when I stayed here but larger, and the shower is the entire length of the wall. Built for two, really.

"So he says, just wants to meet as a formality. He's coming tomorrow."

I lose my bra and turn to step in with him, as he runs a hand through his hair while the water soaks it, and my mouth waters at the sight of Wade, wet and glistening in the shower. I stand watching tiny droplets of water trickle down his muscled chest like a Plinko board.

I don't know how long I stand there for, taking him in from head to toe, but it's long enough for Wade to notice and look at me questioningly.

"Coming in this century, Trouble?" Wade asks, grinning at me like the cat that ate the canary, obviously loving that I can't take my eyes off of him.

I make a face at him while I step into the steaming space as he spins me around and lets the water wet my hair, running his hands down it.

"I can wash my own hair you know …" I say instinctively.

"I know you can, but I want to do it. I love this hair—just the sight of this hair trailing down your back does something to me. Makes me hard all on its own. I would fuck this hair if I could."

I turn to look up at him, and plant a kiss on his jaw, giggling at his ridiculous words.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd think you do this on purpose," I observe while the hot water slides down his chest, entrancing me once again.

"Oh yeah, what's that?" He chuckles as he turns me around, grabbing his shampoo and squeezing some into his palm before rubbing it into my hair.

"It's your life war tactic. You seem all unapproachable and nonchalant about everything and everyone, but underneath it all—figuratively and literally—you're hot, insanely hot, actually, and when you let it out, you have kind of an incredible, addictive personality. People might actually like you, if you let them."

He grunts behind me, a sound that says he's half annoyed with me, half impressed.

"I don't need people to like me, I like my horses and less than ten people, as long as they like me back, and that's enough."

I sigh as Wade's large hands massage my scalp with his sandalwood and rosehip shampoo. It smells just like him: incredible.

"Feels good, hmm?" he rasps into my ear.

"Yes, so good," I say honestly.

Wade pulls the shower wand down, the exact replica of the one I used to make myself come in his other bathroom, and rinses the shampoo from my hair.

"I don't do it on purpose, I'm just not very good with people," Wade confesses. "There's always so much on my plate. I don't really have much left for niceties."

I giggle. "I don't buy it; I get the feeling you just don't want to let people in. If you do they might let you down, like Janelle did."

A moment of deafening silence passes as he rinses out the conditioner. I find something so sexy about the fact that this rugged cowboy has the matching sandalwood and rosehip conditioner in his shower.

Just as I start to worry I got too personal, he answers.

"And I get the feeling you're not used to people helping you with anything, and it makes you nervous when they try. You might get too used to it. Sometimes it's okay to let people take care of you."

I grin at his astute observation. "Well, aren't we the pair then? Each of us behind our metaphoric walls."

"Seems so," he says as he reattaches the wand to the shower head and I giggle at my own dirty memories.

"What's funny?" Wade asks as he hands me the soap and rubs shampoo into his own hair. He looks like a photoshoot as he scrubs it out.

"Just reliving my romance with your shower head," I say innocently, just to torture him as I wash my body.

Wade stops dead in his tracks, water rinsing his body wash from his shoulders, down his back. The need to trace the lines with my tongue overwhelms me.

"My shower head?"

"Well, not yours, mine, technically … when I stayed here."

Wade smirks, that haunting gleam in his eye returning that I can't get enough of.

"Elaborate," he says as he finishes rinsing himself, his cock already starting to thicken with the idea of my story.

The water rushing down the drain is the only sound as I contemplate my admission.

"You have a great massage setting. I used it to make myself come one night while I stayed here … two nights … three—"

"You only stayed here seven."

I huff out a breath. "Okay, four nights."

Wade's jaw goes slack as he looks at the shower head, like a battle is being waged in his mind, then he detaches it swiftly, turns it to massage mode and offers it to me, his expression dead serious.

"Show me."

My mouth falls open. I blush, and his knuckles trail over my nipple.

"Just where was I when you made yourself come, Ivy?" he asks, his voice doing that lower-octave thing that instantly makes my lady bits come alive.

"In the next room."

Wade moves closer to me and physically places the shower head in my hand as he dips down, his lips meeting my ear. I moan as his stubbled jaw grazes me.

"Don't be embarrassed, Trouble, I ruined one of your scrunchies with my cum once. I wanted you just as badly as you wanted me, right from the start."

I blink at his admission. Only confidence radiates from him, as if coming into my scrunchie is the most normal thing on earth.

"Now, show me," he says, with no room for argument.

I do as he says, using the water to trail over my body while Wade instinctively grips his hard cock with one hand and fists my hair with the other, tipping my face up to him so he can whisper in my ear.

"And tell me exactly what you were thinking about while you got yourself off in my house like the dirty little slut you are for me?"

I moan as the water hits my aching clit, closing my eyes, partly so I don't have to look at him and partly because it feels so fucking good already.

"You," I admit.

"Say more," he commands as I begin to circle the shower head, little jolts of lust scorching up my center.

"I … imagined you pressing me against the wall," I say as I feel large hands grip my shoulders and spin me around.

"Like this?"

"Yes."

Wade's hand runs down the center of my spine. This is so dirty, so deliciously fucked-up, that I'm telling my boss how I got off to him in his own shower and he's moving to act it out with me, but then again there is not a chance in hell that I'm stopping.