“So why did you pick me?” Dean said loudly, speaking over the water.
What was the best answer here? “Because they expected me not to,” I called back.
“Trying to prove everyone wrong again, eh?”
I couldn’t tell from the tone of his voice if he thought I was being funny or what, so I said nothing, swiping the sponge over my neck and the tops of my shoulders. I couldn’t quite reach my back, and it was bothering me.
“Abby?” Dean stepped forward, and I glanced over my shoulder at him. He was standing near the swinging doors, but his eyes were averted, not looking at my naked (and very vulnerable) body. For some reason, I found that… sweet. My heart melted. Even though he was irritated at me and I was standing here naked, he was averting his eyes like a gentleman.
“Something like that,” I said slowly. My back still felt oily and gross, and I took a step backward, keeping my back presented to him. “Can you wash my back while we talk?” I kept my eyes trained forward, stating without speaking that I wouldn’t look at his naked body if he did. To keep my promise, I closed my eyes and bent my head, crossing my arms over my br**sts and exposing my back.
After a moment’s pause—and I had a horrible fear that he wouldn’t do me the favor—I heard him step forward, and then a soapy sponge—his—brushed across my shoulders. He swiped in quick, functional, almost rough motions. Impersonal. “So that’s why you picked me?” His voice was as neutral as his touch. “Just to f**k with the others?”
Food and showers help, I wanted to say, but I bit my tongue, remaining silent. Anything I said right now would come across as flippant, and I just wanted to concentrate on him touching me.
The sponge finished scrubbing my back, and it lifted and started over at my shoulders, moving in small, almost ticklish circles. Still washing me with soft, easy strokes.
“Abby?”
“What?” My voice grew shy, my skin prickling as my mind went wild with the thought of him standing naked behind me. This wasn’t going to work. I should have sent him off with another team. I should have picked someone safe like Will. I should have—
“Are you going to stand there and tell me that’s the only reason you picked me?” Dean said in a low, hoarse voice. The sponge lifted from my shoulders, and I felt nothing but the hot spray of water on my body and Dean’s intense presence behind me.
I dared to risk a glance over my shoulder, and found him standing close to me, very close. My entire body prickled with awareness, and my heart pounded. Don’t say anything, I warned myself. Don’t say anything. He can’t possibly be interested in you as a person. This is a game and he’s just going to use you to win the money.
But his fingers—not the sponge—rested along the dip of my spine, and I sucked in a breath, steeling myself. “Not the reason,” I whispered. The air seemed charged with electricity and hope, and I froze, waiting for him to tell me if I was nuts. I squeezed my eyes shut, waiting.
Rough hands grabbed my shoulders and my eyes flew open as Dean whirled me around and grabbed me in his arms, and then his mouth was hot on mine, kissing me frantically. Devouring me. His lean, hard body pressed against mine, and I felt the thick erection against my stomach, even as he pressed our bodies closer together. My hands lifted, winding to his neck as my mouth pressed against his with equal fervor. His mouth nipped at mine and he sucked on my lower lip, making my breath gasp into my throat. Dean’s hands pushed me against the slick tile wall, pressing me between him and the wall itself, a cage of flesh as his arms surrounded me. I whimpered a little at the sensation, swiping at his tongue with mine and digging my fingers into his hair. It was madness, this intensity between us, nothing but water and steam and frantically kissing mouths, as if a dam had burst and the water had washed away all inhibition and doubt.
“I thought you wanted a different partner,” Dean breathed into my mouth, even as his hands slid up the sides of my br**sts. I writhed against the wall, against his chest, my hands frantically moving from his hair to his shoulders, everywhere I could touch him.
“I didn’t think you’d want to be with me,” I said, averting my face with the pretense of pressing tiny bites along the strong line of his jaw. God, I loved his jaw. Two weeks’ worth of whiskers didn’t detract from his beauty at all.
“That’s f**king stupid,” he said, grabbing my leg and hooking it over his hip. “I’ve been crazy about you ever since we got here and you glared at me like I was dirt. Couldn’t figure you out.” His mouth pressed against my neck, the words muffled, and his hand lifted my leg a little higher, his hips jutting forward until the full length of his erection pressed against my sex, and my breath escaped me in a shuddering gasp.
Well, that didn’t leave much to the imagination. And the reality was so much better. And bigger. I moaned against him and bit his ear, frantic.
He groaned, bucking his hips against me again, his fingers sliding up to flick a wet nipple. “You sure you want this? Last chance to back away,” he said, his thumb grazing my nipple, back and forth. “Look at me, Abby.”
Almost shy—despite our frantic, desperate make-out session—I lifted my eyes to his, our faces sprayed by the water of the shower.
“Do you want this?” he repeated, and a slight swivel of his hips left nothing to the imagination as to what he was referring to. “If you tell me to stop now, I will.”
His thumb hadn’t stopped, though. It was still teasing the peak of my breast, the slick skin rubbing back and forth in a motion that sent shockwaves up and down my body. I wanted to reach down and bite his thumb, bite his mouth, devour him whole even as he pressed against me, his wet hair plastered to his skull.
“If you stop now, I’ll never speak to you again,” I said and arched so my breast rubbed against his hand in a very deliberate fashion, the other peak brushing against his chest.
He pressed a hard, frantic kiss to my mouth and released my leg. “Wait here.” With that, he cupped my face in his hands, kissed my mouth again—softly—and left me in the shower. Dean stepped out of the shower and into the bathroom, and as I watched and waited, my arms crossed over my br**sts again, he dug through the drawers of toiletries. A small foil packet appeared a moment later, and he returned to my side as if we’d never left off, grabbing me in the circle of his arms again and pushing me back against the slick wall. His free hand locked in mine, our fingers interlaced, and he slid our twined hands up the tile until my body was arched slightly, my breast tilted into the air, and he bent over and took the peak in his mouth.