Stepping inside, I froze. The bathroom wasn’t empty. Ramsey was there. In the bathtub. Bubbles that I was sure had once been plentiful were melting away, leaving that bronze chest on full display. He had his dark brown hair tied up in a knot with that leather cord I wanted to tug free. His muscular shoulders, while relaxed, spanned more than the width of the tub.
My fingers itched to touch. Yet I stood there frozen, unable to move closer or walk away.
Ramsey’s eyes popped open, and those onyx depths pierced right through me.
I whirled around, facing the wall. “I’m so sorry. I thought you’d gone to bed.”
“Shiloh—”
“I really didn’t mean to intrude—”
“Shiloh.”
I let out a shaky breath.
“Come here.”
My heart hammered in my chest, but I forced myself to turn around.
He grinned at me, and it was devastating. “Hey.”
“Hi,” I squeaked.
Ramsey held out a hand. I stepped forward, linking my fingers with his.
“I thought you were taking a shower.”
He shrugged. “Wanted to soak my muscles.”
At that last word, my eyes traveled down to his chest. Then lower. “A-are you usually a fan of baths?”
Ramsey chuckled. “I don’t think a few bubbles are going to challenge my manhood.”
They definitely weren’t. I swallowed hard as I lowered myself to the tile floor next to the bathtub. I swiped a finger through the foam. “I’m a fan of bubbles.”
He arched a brow. “You want in here with me?”
There was hope in those dark eyes, but panic seared through me. He reached up and brushed the hair away from my face. “Hey, you don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for.”
There was no judgment, no pressure, simply kindness and understanding. But I wanted more. I lifted my gaze to his. “Can I touch you?”
His eyes flared, a dark heat pooling there. “You touch whatever you damn well please.”
My mouth curved. I reached out, going for the hair that my fingers had been itching to touch for years. I found the end of the leather cord and pulled. It came free with just that one tug, Ramsey’s dark hair skimming the tops of his shoulders.
I sifted my fingers through the strands. So damn soft, but thick and strong, too. That juxtaposition was so like the man: hard but gentle. Fierce yet kind.
I wanted more. Wanted to know what every part of him felt like under my fingertips. I moved lower, my hand stilling just before I reached his chest. With a deep breath, I closed the distance. It was a riot of sensation, the prickle of chest hair, the smooth skin beneath, and the hard muscle below that.
I lost myself in exploring, tracing invisible designs and mapping the curves of his body with my fingers. My hand dipped lower, circling a nipple.
Ramsey sucked in a sharp breath, and I froze, my gaze flying to his face. “Did I hurt you?”
“Shiloh, your hands on me? Best kind of pain I’ve ever felt.”
Heat like liquid gold pooled somewhere deep. “Why don’t you ever call me Shy? Everyone else does.”
He reached out, his rough thumb skating across my cheek. “I don’t feel like Shy fits you. It’s not who you are to me.”