Two Can Play (Celeste and Dominic) novel Chapter 34

Chapter 34

I worked the lather down her body slowly, over her stomach, her hips, the curve of her waist, the full round of her ass. My fingers slid between her thighs, washing her gently, and she let out a soft sound and leaned into me. I turned her around and worked the lather across her back, her shoulder blades, the small of it, the backs of her thighs, every inch of her with the same deliberate patience.

Then she took the bottle from my hand.

She squirted lather into her palm and reached for my chest. Her hands moved slowly, spreading the foam across my pectorals, down my stomach, along the lines of my abdomen. She washed my arms, my shoulders. Then she dropped to her knees on the wet tile and worked the lather down my legs, her fingers careful and thorough.

I watched her.

She looked up at me from the floor of the shower, water streaming down her face, a playful expression at the corner of her mouth. Then she gathered a generous handful of foam and wrapped her soapy fingers around my cock, which had gone hard again the moment she knelt.

I groaned.

She stroked slowly. Methodically. With a careful thoroughness that was entirely unnecessary and completely devastating.

“Are you trying to torture me?” I asked. My voice came out rougher than I intended.

She laughed. Bright and genuine, echoing off the tile. “I am just being thorough.”

I pulled her to her feet and turned the water to rinse us both. The foam slid from our bodies in white rivulets and disappeared down the drain. I cupped her face and kissed her once more under the spray. tasting nothing but clean warm skin.

When we stepped out, I wrapped a towel around her first. I dried her shoulders, her arms, the length of her legs. She took the second towel and dried me in return, patient and unhurried, patting the fabric against my chest and back.

I handed her a robe. Thick, white, soft enough to disappear into. She belted it at her waist and looked at herself in the mirror for a moment, and the expression on her face was one I had not seen on her before. Something easy. Something unburdened.

I put on a robe of my own.

“Now,” I said. “Dinner.”

The fridge was fully stocked with meals the hotel kitchen had prepared in advance. I selected two plates, microwaved them, and set them on the small dining table.

She sat across from me in the white robe, her hair still damp, her face relaxed and open, and I barely tasted the food.

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Our phones rang throughout the meal.

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