“The shower?” he asked.
“No,” she said, looking horrified that he’d think so. “I swear.” But then her curiosity apparently got the better of her. “Why?” she asked. “What do you do in the shower?”
“Well, this morning I jacked off to the memory of you crying out my name.”
She swallowed hard and looked like she might be having trouble breathing. “You . . . really?”
“Really.”
Abruptly setting down her mug, she walked out of the kitchen.
What the hell? Not nearly finished with this conversation, not even close, he followed her out, through the living room, and up the stairs to the bathroom he’d been using. It was still a little foggy from all the hot water he’d used.
She stood in the middle of the room and stared through the glass.
“Zoe?”
“Shh. I’m picturing it,” she whispered, like it was too naughty a conversation for a normal speaking voice.
Behind her back, he found a smile. “Seems only fair since I picture you all the time. You have a handheld in there. Do you ever use it when you think of me?”
She gasped. “I don’t . . . I don’t use it like that—and I don’t even use this shower.”
He turned her to face him and found her blushing and biting her lower lip. “But you do think of me in your shower, where you also have a handheld.” Leaning past her, he flicked on the water.
“What are you doing?” she asked, sounding more than a little panicked.
Smart woman.
“I want to see you do it,” he said. “I want to see you doing yourself while you think of me.”
“I’m not going to—I have things to do, I have a flight later this afternoon—”
“Plenty of time, then.” He smiled and tugged off her blazer. “And besides, all you need is twenty minutes, remember?” He started to unbutton her blouse and leaned in to kiss her. “Which we both know I can cut down to seven if I’m on my game,” he whispered against her lips. “And I’m feeling very on my game at the moment, Zoe.”
She stared at him for a beat through the steam filling the bathroom and then kicked off her shoes. “All right, fine,” she said with gracious defeat, “but only because you got me all hot and bothered and I have to be able to concentrate today.”
“Duly noted,” he said, his mouth watering as she shimmied out of the rest of her clothes.
“Less staring and more stripping,” she said, nodding her chin toward his clothes. “We’re on the clock here.”
He was laughing as he did her bidding and stripped, completely forgetting his injuries.
She gasped at the gash on his forehead and then her attention drifted southbound, right past his favorite body part, and locked in on the gauze he’d wrapped around the wound on his thigh.
She dropped to her knees and set her hands on either side of his leg. “What happened?”
“You got on your knees in front of me,” he said, voice unintentionally gravelly.
She stared up at his erection and choked out a laugh.
“It’s not polite to laugh at a naked man, Zoe.”
“I didn’t mean—” She closed her eyes for a beat and then opened them. “Tell me why you have a cut on your head and you’re bleeding through a bandage.”
“Later,” he said, and scooped her up and stepped into the shower with her.
She turned to face him, letting her heated, appreciative gaze run down his body again, slower this time, and not in alarm but arousal. She smiled. “You like me.”
“Hard for a man to hide it,” he agreed, smiling back.
She bit her lower lip again. “Show me?”
He arched a brow. “You mean—”
“Yes,” she said. “Show me what I missed this morning. If you’re . . . up for it.”