Turning, he sauntered back into the bathroom, letting his towel drop on the way into the shower, giving her a very generous view of that butt—and dear God, it was a golden, sculpted masterpiece. A sacrifice even the stingiest of gods would accept.
Tight, thick, round cheeks sprinkled with hair. Golf’s most perfect bubble butt, right there in her home. Totally bare. And when he stepped into her shower, flashing her his balls and an erection, both of which, frankly, looked heavy and miserable, the temptation of Wells—being connected to him again, the way they’d been in Texas—had her taking a step toward the bathroom, hovering in the doorway. Should she? Or was this—literally—a slippery slope?
Two of them.
Wells crooked his finger at her from inside the steamy shower.
Then he dropped that hand to his shaft and stroked himself roughly.
And the possibility of saying no sifted right through her fingertips, like it never existed.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Was Wells playing it cool, as though his life hadn’t flashed before his eyes today?
He was trying like hell, but in no way, shape, or form had he recovered from thinking something terrible had happened to Josephine. And honestly, he’d walked into that bathroom ordering himself to be respectful of her wishes. When he’d been damn near overcome by the need to kiss her on the couch, he’d reminded himself of what she wanted—and he’d refrained.
Unfortunately, Josephine’s bathroom was like a cute little wonderland of her scents and personality. A combination of frilly and practical. Cheerful yellow soap beside an electric toothbrush. In a touch of whimsy, those glow-in-the-dark stars were stuck to the ceiling, but she had a ruthlessly arranged assortment of glass jars containing cotton balls and Q-tips. The kicker, however, was the baby-blue see-through bra hanging from the towel rack.
See through. With a white bow in between the cups.
At that point, Wells had reached the breaking point.
Do you have everything you need? his achingly hot caddie had called through the bathroom door, giving him zero choice but to accept the opening.
Now, standing in a veritable whirlwind of her scent—vanilla and lilacs, wasn’t it?—he watched her approach through the open glass door of the shower, his dick swelling gratefully in his hand. Come on, baby, don’t stop. Almost here. Honestly, Wells wasn’t even sure fucking Josephine right now was a smart idea. His brain was still half fogged with the fear he’d lost her, his delirium compounded by the slap shot in the other direction when he saw her alive and well.
In no way would this be casual, despite how he’d made it seem.
Was he going to be able to have sex with this woman without professing his feelings and begging her to please, for the love of God, just cut the bullshit and belong to him?
Probably not. Maybe he should have kept his shorts on and left. Gone back to his lonely bachelor’s apartment in Miami.
But Josephine.
Being around her again was like waking up after a lung transplant and remembering what it’s like to breathe. He just wanted to get drunk on her oxygen. Was that so much to ask?
“Take off your clothes,” he requested hoarsely, releasing his cock and bracing a hand on the wall of the shower. Otherwise, all his pent-up sexual frustration was going to end up on the shower floor as soon as he saw her tits. “Strip for me, belle. I need to see you.”
She chewed her lip a moment, indecisive.
As a man who knew the strongest weapon in his arsenal—when it came to this particular woman—Wells turned around and let her see his ass. Eyes closed, he tipped his head forward beneath the hot shower spray, letting the water coast down over his back—and he held his breath, praying for Josephine to make the decision to climb in there with him.
Come on, belle. I need you.
Need me back.
His breath released in a gusty shudder when her palms slid up his wet back and Jesus, his cock saluted so fast, it nearly slapped up against his stomach. God almighty, the effect this woman had on him was unmatched. One touch and he had the urge to promise a bunch of ridiculous shit. You want to be carried around town on a silk pillow, Josephine? Hop on. I knew I had these arms for a reason.
Wow. He had problems.
Big ones.
Chief of which, he wanted to turn around and demolish Josephine where she stood. Just wrap those beautiful legs around his waist, lick his tongue into her mouth, and pound his way to heaven while she whimpered and clawed at him. But based on her tentative, featherlight touch, they weren’t quite on the same page yet.
Stay cool. Calm the hell down.