“Nice bathroom,” she said as he eased open the door with one shoulder and slid her to her feet. Without taking his eyes off her, he reached into the enormous glass-enclosed shower to turn on the water.
“Off,” he said, gesturing at her clothes.
For the first time since he’d publicly propositioned her, she felt shy. Her shirt was dangling around her neck like a sweaty scarf, the elastic from her bra was pushing her boobs down in the entirely wrong direction, and oh gawd, when was the last time she’d trimmed her bikini line? She’d never had unplanned sex before, and usually a wax was part of the pre-date process.
“Julie,” he growled. “Don’t you dare go getting all squirrelly on me now.”
“I’m not squirrelly,” she muttered as she pretended to struggle with the drawstring of her running shorts. “I’m just—”
But Mitchell saw right through her, and before she could finish her sentence, he stepped toward her and shoved her shorts down to her ankles.
“Cute panties,” he said, smiling at her very practical blue polka-dot briefs.
She scowled. “I know they don’t scream sex. But you try running in a thong.”
“I could care less what your underwear looks like.” He pointed at her crotch, then at the floor. “Get them off.”
Deliberately Julie ignored the order, and instead crouched down to remove the shorts dangling around her ankles and to untie her shoes. She might not be perfectly clean and smoothed, but there was no way she’d stand before a man in no underwear while she was still wearing sneakers and sweaty athletic socks.
“Happy now?” she asked as she stood back up and began to wiggle out of her underwear.
Then her mouth went dry. Oh, my. Mitchell Forbes was naked.
He wasn’t the least bit shy, she noted as he threw his clothes in the general direction of his hamper and stepped into the shower.
“Care to join me?” he asked, grinning out at her from the steam.
Julie chewed her lip for half a second before she was tearing at her sports bra and tank. It was now or never.
“Ohh,” she moaned as she stepped beneath the warm spray. For the briefest of moments, the pleasure of the hot water on her sore muscles was so intense that she almost forgot about Mitchell.
Then his wet, hard body pressed up behind her and her eyes popped open.
Mitchell wasn’t about to be forgotten.
Hot soapy hands slid up her sides and then around to her front, where they paused just under her breasts. She squirmed into him, and she thought she heard him mutter something hot and harsh before sliding his hands over her aching breasts.
“Julie. What the hell are we doing?” he whispered in her ear.
She felt a stab of relief. So this wasn’t normal for him either. She liked that she made him lose control. Liked even more that he made her lose control.
“We can figure it out later,” she whispered over her shoulder, putting her hands over his and pressing his palms against her aching breasts. He very slowly, very deliberately squeezed her nipples. She gasped.
“You’re sensitive,” he said as he brushed the tips lightly with his fingers.
Julie tried to turn around to face him, but he held her close and nudged her forward until her cheek was against the cool tile wall.
“You’re a water hog,” she gasped, her nipples getting even harder as her body chilled slightly. Being sandwiched between the heat of Mitchell’s body and the cold wall made her want to rub against him. So she did.
Mitchell hissed and squeezed her nipples harder.
“Are you clean yet?” he asked roughly.
Her eyes opened slightly in dazed confusion. Clean? She was halfway to orgasm, and he was going OCD on her? Then his hand slid down her front and rubbed her there, and suddenly she didn’t care if she was ever clean again as long as he didn’t stop.
His hand continued to circle and stroke until it slipped downward, and without warning, one hot, slick finger slid inside her.
“Oh, God,” she moaned. She was riding his hand now, desperate for release. “Mitchell—”