Hair wet, and the metal chair getting slippery and sort of uncomfortable, Ro realized she didn’t have any soap. She saw the dispenser on the wall. Bingo. Eau de commando couldn’t be that bad. At worst it would smell like that scent-masking soap her dad used to use during hunting season that made him smell like dirt. But the dispenser was a little too high for her to reach from her seated position. Ro slid forward on the chair and put her weight on her right foot and reached out for the lever on the dispenser. Jackpot. Liquid soap filled her hand. She went to sit back down, but her wet ass slipped right off the slick metal seat, sending the chair skidding back across the shower floor. Ro tried to catch herself, and couldn’t stop from putting her left foot down, the weight causing pain to shoot through her ankle. She started to fall backward, a girly shriek coming from her mouth. She braced herself for the pain that was about to be shooting up her tailbone, but before she made contact with the tile floor, a pair of strong arms wrapped around her wet, completely naked body, catching her just underneath her breasts. Ro let out another shriek, this time in surprise.
“I got you. Hold still.” Ro froze, realizing that she’d started wriggling out of his grasp, which did nothing to get her free, but instead caused his hand to shift. It now covered her left breast. Like full-on, hand over boob.
Graham couldn’t help that his dick was now rock hard. He had the girl’s tit in his hand. And she didn’t have a bad rack. Actually, she felt pretty fucking good, all slippery and wet, and definitely bigger than a handful. Which was saying something given the size of his hands.
When he’d heard the chair scrape across the floor, Graham had known exactly what was happening. What he didn’t know was whether it was heaven-sent or hell-bound. He couldn’t stop himself from turning around at the sound. When he saw her falling, that deliciously rounded, heart-shaped ass heading for the shower floor, he’d reacted. Simple as that. Which brought him to now, with her tit spilling out of his palm, and the rest of the slippery, wiggling woman in his arms.
“I got you. Hold still.” If she didn’t quit moving, she was going to have her naked ass pressed up against his hard on. She froze.
“Finally, she listens,” Graham said, more to himself than to her. “Okay, sweetheart, I’m going to sit you down.” Graham hooked the chair with his foot and dragged it back toward the spray that was soaking them both. Chair back into position, he lowered her into it. Graham was just barely able to restrain himself from squeezing that luscious handful. Man, she was stacked. And they were one hundred percent real. He’d bet the ranch on it.
That train of thought was not helping his erection deflate. Predictably, she didn’t turn when he stepped out of the shower room. Unpredictably, she also didn’t say anything.
“Don’t reach for the soap; I’ll bring you some.” Graham would’ve kicked himself for not thinking of grabbing her a bar of soap and some shampoo before, especially if she’d hurt herself falling, but he couldn’t bring himself to regret it at that moment. First off, she’d been stripping and tossing her clothes to him like his own personal striptease. Even if he didn’t get to watch, he had a damn good imagination. And secondly, it was pretty obvious—he got his hands all over a wet, naked woman. Nothing to regret there. With only two female residents on the ranch—Allison, who was married to Jonah, and Grace, their five year old daughter—there was no action happening for him or the eight other unattached guys who called the place home. If they’d had advanced notice of the apocalypse, maybe they all would have considered attempting real relationships rather than just hook ups. Although that was debatable.
Graham snagged a bottle of Allison’s homemade shampoo and a bar of soap out of the locker filled with Grace’s bath toys. Neither Grace nor Allison would mind. Graham headed back to the shower, trying not to stare at the girl as she wrapped her arms around herself, covering all of the goods.
“Here.” Graham called upon what little shred of gentlemanly nature he possessed and looked away from her when he got close enough to hand off the soap. “Take it.”
Feeling her grab the soap, Graham barely resisted the urge to turn his head. He forced himself to head back to the locker room. He thought he heard a quiet “Thanks,” but he wasn’t sure.
“Just holler when you’re done. I’ll hand you a towel, and you can dry off.”
This time he definitely heard the clipped, “Thank you.”
Graham sat down on the bench and waited. And tried not to recall exactly how fucking perfect she’d felt in his arms.
Ro could only imagine what shade of red her face must be. Without a mirror, it was hard to judge whether she was tomato red or fire engine red. Seriously. Holy. Balls. Ro tried to push aside the feeling of Conan’s hand cupping her breast. Sweet baby Jesus.