“I can’t figure out if you do it on purpose,” he said, “or if you just have no idea.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I snapped, my heart still beating like it was going to jump out of my chest. “Can I take a shower in peace?”
“Probably not,” he replied, stepping in next to me.
I wanted to be pissed. I really did. But oh, my God, all that dark skin was on full display and he showed absolutely no sign of self-consciousness.
“I’m in the shower,” I muttered.
“Me too,” he replied in amusement.
“I know.” I continued to stare until he began to chuckle. “Why?”
“Because I knew you weren’t going to be able to focus until you took a shower,” he replied, reaching for my shampoo. “But I didn’t want to wait that long.”
I let him lather my hair without a peep. Half of me was relishing what we were doing, but the other half was completely freaking out. Why was he here? Why was he making a move now, when he’d backed off before? What was his endgame? And why in God’s name had he told his mom he wanted to marry me? Had he been joking about that? She must have freaked out.
“I can see the wheels turning,” he said as he tilted my head back to rinse the shampoo out. “You want to share your thoughts with the class?”
“No,” I replied, sputtering when soap ran down my face.
“Whoops,” he said easily, wiping the residue away. “Why don’t you feel like sharing?”
“Maybe I’m not the sharing type,” I replied.
“Sure you are,” he argued, gently moving my hands back to my sides before reaching for my body wash. “You just don’t want to share anything about yourself.”
“What are you doing?” I asked as he knelt in the shower.
“Washing you.”
“I can wash myself,” I replied, taking a tiny step backward.
“I know,” he said, tilting his head to look at me, even though it made water splash into his face. “But I’d like to do it.”
I cocked my head to the side, wondering what I was missing in his enigmatic answers, but stepped forward again, giving him permission.
He started with my feet and moved upward, not exactly rushing, but not taking his time, either. He didn’t miss a single spot, but he didn’t linger. By the time he reached my hips, I was almost vibrating with need, but he moved past any erogenous zones as he made his way over my back and torso.
“You don’t like asking for help,” Trevor said as he massaged soap onto my hand. “You don’t like talking about your feelings or getting in too deep.”
I opened my mouth to reply, but shut it again when he shook his head in warning.
“I’m talking now, you’ll get your chance,” he said, moving farther up my arm. “At first, it threw me for a loop. You were so welcoming when I showed up that first time. So easy. I took that for granted.”
“Easy?” I asked, ignoring his glare.
“You know what I mean,” he replied. “Stop interrupting.”
I closed my mouth and raised one eyebrow. I couldn’t wait until it was my turn to speak. Why the hell was I letting him boss me around, anyway? He was in my house and he’d interrupted my damn shower.
“So when you went all cold on me, I had no idea how to respond.” He shrugged his shoulders and smiled ruefully. “It was such a change from how you’d been in the beginning that I instantly backed off.”
I wanted so badly to speak, but I didn’t. His hands moved to my shoulder and armpit, and he didn’t hesitate for a second even though I hadn’t shaved in days. I willed myself not to blush.
“I hadn’t realized yet, that’s what you do.” He paused on my collarbone, then kept moving. “You shy away from anything personal, even the aftermath of sex.”
“That’s not true,” I argued, unable to keep silent any longer. “I’ve talked to you about a ton of personal shit.”
“You’ve texted sometimes,” he conceded, nodding. “But in person? No way.”
“Wrong,” I replied.
“Name once.” His hands never stopped moving as he cleaned my other arm, this time starting at my shoulder.
“We talked about personal things the first time you showed up!”
“We talked about Henry,” he corrected. “We didn’t talk about you.”
“Yes we did.”
“No,” he said seriously. “We didn’t. You brushed off how Henry had hurt you, and that was that.”
“He didn’t hurt me.”
“Didn’t he?”
“No.”
“It didn’t bother you at all that he walked away from you?”
“No,” I said emphatically.
“It didn’t hurt you that he walked away from Etta?”
“I think I’m clean,” I said bluntly, pulling my hand from his. I turned and flipped the shower knob off. “I’ll get you a towel.”
I stepped out of the shower but didn’t even get to the towels under the sink before he was spinning me around to look at him.