It only looked worse.
She undid one of the buttons on her blouse and pushed her breasts a little higher in her bra before letting her hands drop to her sides. There wasn’t anything remotely sexy about her at two in the morning, she decided.
Second and third thoughts about being with Wyatt started to seep in. Not that she didn’t want the next step, but that he might realize that a woman like her might not measure up. Then the most disturbing thought of all came from nowhere . . . had Wyatt ever slept with a woman who had a child before? Melanie lifted her shirt and patted her mostly flat stomach.
A soft knock on the door had her tugging her shirt back down.
“You get lost in there?”
“Ah, no.” She scrambled with nerves leading her actions. She turned on the water and let it run for a second before turning it off. The reflection in the mirror laughed at her before she stopped watching it and walked away.
Wyatt stood outside the door, a cocky grin lingering on his face. “I was starting to worry.”
Melanie ran a hand over her hair, knew it was useless. “It’s a nice bathroom.” She wasn’t usually a nervous laughter kinda girl, but that was starting to change. “I’m a mess.”
“You’re beautiful.”
She leaned against the door frame and tried to feel the smile. “I look about as sexy as a wet cat.”
Wyatt’s eyes did a slow dance down her frame and took their time moving back up. A warm shiver had her catching her breath.
He took a step toward her and pulled her back into the bathroom. He sat her on the edge of the tub and turned toward the shower. He had the water flowing and the bright lights in the room dimmed to a romantic glow that made Melanie smile.
He leaned down and pulled her shoes off one at a time. All the while she watched him. Wyatt ran the edge of his thumb on her instep once her sock left her foot, and moved to the next. With her shoes to the side, he placed both hands on her bare knees and smiled up at her. Then, without notice, he grasped her hips and lifted her off the tub and carried her to the shower.
“I’m still dressed,” she offered a protest.
“So am I.” But he took them both into the warm spray of water anyway.
She giggled when he set her back on her feet.
He pushed her hair out of her face and tilted it so the spray could saturate each strand. And when she opened her eyes, Wyatt was staring with a hooded gaze that made her feel beautiful.
Melanie ran her hands up his chest and grasped the edges of his T-shirt. He ducked and helped her remove it. She allowed her hands to run over the smooth muscles of his chest. “Nice,” she mumbled.
“Your turn,” he said before reaching for the buttons of her shirt. The water made slipping the buttons through the holes difficult, but he managed and brushed the shirt away as if it were an annoyance. Strong hands cupped the sides of her breasts through her bra, and Wyatt’s lips replaced his gaze. The graze of his teeth made a path from the top of one breast to the other before he slipped one strap down her shoulder and kissed her there. She felt her knees give out just a little and Wyatt steadied her. “None of that,” he whispered.
“Can’t help it,” she said.
He lifted his kiss and turned her away from him.
He filled his palm with shampoo and ran his hands through her hair and followed the suds down her shoulders and back. He ran a finger between her bra and skin before snapping apart the clasp and tossing the garment over the top of the glass door.
She glanced at him over her shoulder with a smile. He found soap and lathered his hands before running them over her back and slipping around to follow the curve of her chest. Even in the heated water, her nipples tightened with his touch as she pushed into his palms. He didn’t linger there; instead he kept moving his soap filled palms over every inch of her exposed skin.
Her shorts proved a little difficult with wet denim, so she helped with the snap and the zipper and let him draw them down along with her panties, her back still to him.
Wyatt kept her from slipping as he brought one leg out of her shorts at a time. The two met her bra outside the shower. When he returned, his hands started at her thighs and explored. Slow movements cleaned the less private areas, leaving her breathless with only a touch.
He leaned into her, the feel of his jeans rough on her skin, and kissed the side of her neck. “I’ve thought about you in here, like this,” he told her.
Melanie rested the back of her head on his shoulder and let the water cascade over her. “I like your shower.”
He turned her around, captured her lips, and pressed her into the cool tiles. The heat, his kiss . . . the chill of the wall, all of it made her shiver and reach for him. When her hands slid past his waist, she fumbled with the button of his jeans and pulled.