Making Up (Shacking Up 4)

“Oh my God! Look at the mess you made!” Still wearing her bra and panties, she steps into the tub and sifts through the foam until she finds the taps and turns the water off. She gives me a saucy grin and sinks down, disappearing into the bubbles. “It’s like sitting inside a cloud!” She laughs and then sputters, “But it doesn’t taste as nice as I imagine a cloud would.”

“I’d imagine clouds taste like nothing, since they’re made of water.” I leave my boxers on and step into the tub, pushing foam out of the way in search of Cosy. I find her on the opposite side, the only part of her that isn’t obscured is her face, but she has a bubble goatee decorating her chin. I sink down beside her and stretch my arm across the edge.

“When I was a kid, I always believed clouds would taste like cotton candy or marshmallows.” She scoops up a handful of bubbles in her hand.

“Bet that feels like yesterday,” I say, then realize how bad that sounds.

Cosy’s mouth drops open, and she blows the handful of bubbles in my face. “Jerk.”

“Sorry, sorry. I didn’t mean that the way it came out.” I grab for her, but she’s slippery with suds and she slides out of my grasp, to the other side of the tub. I get a hold on her ankle before she gets too far and drag her back.

She doesn’t fight to get away this time, but she also looks fairly unimpressed. Our legs tangle under the water as I pull her closer, hands roaming blindly over her curves as she straddles me. “You know, Griffin, you’re doing a shitty job of managing your daddy complex.”

“It came out wrong. I don’t have a complex.” I brush bubbles out of her hair, which proves to be fairly impossible since we’re surrounded.

“Are you sure about that? Maybe it’s a subconscious thing. Maybe you aren’t even aware you have one. Maybe you’ve been in denial.” She scoops up an armful of bubbles and dumps them on my head. Then drags them down the side of my face to my chin.

“What’re you doing?”

“Giving you a bubble beard.” Her tone implies the duh. She gives me a saucy grin and wags her brows. “Now you look like a dirty grandpa.”

“It came out the wrong way.”

“Relax, Griffin. I’m playing around with you.” She runs her fingers through my hair, flinging away the suds that cling to her hands. She does the same thing to my cheeks before she leans in and brushes her lips over mine. “Ten years isn’t that big a difference.”

“Eleven.”

“Close enough. Stop splitting hairs. It’s like you want something to feel guilty about.” She dips back down, and this time she sucks on my bottom lip.

I wrap my arms around her and sink into the kiss. I ease my hands down her sides, gripping her ass to pull her closer.

It’s probably a good thing we’re not completely naked, otherwise this could get dangerous quickly since the condoms are in the nightstand by the bed. We make out, kissing, hands roaming under the water, grinding on each other, neither one of us in a rush. It’s sweet and sexy and just . . . refreshing. That’s what Cosy is—free of pretense, she lives in the moment.

She breaks the kiss and leans back, pressing her hips closer to mine. For a few seconds I’m confused, until her bra straps slide down her arms and she slingshots it over the side of the tub. It lands on the tile with a wet slap.

What I want to do immediately is look down and cup what’s been offered, but I resist the urge to grope and ogle. I’m willing to delay gratification for a few precious seconds. I meet Cosy’s gaze. She’s chewing nervously on the inside of her lip, and both of her hands are at her throat, slowly trailing down her chest. I follow the movement, her fingertips moving over the wet swell and disappearing into the foamy water. It laps at her nipples, the tips of which are barely visible.

I wrap my hands around her waist, lifting her out of the water, eyes still on hers as I kiss the space between her breasts, which are full and lush and perky as fuck. I kiss my way across the swell, savoring her sweet, soapy skin and her soft moan when I close my lips around her nipple and suck gently.

Cosy rearranges herself so her chest is level with my face and her hands slide into to my hair. She grips the strands as I palm one breast and kiss the other. My name is a hoarse cry when I bite the swell on my way across her chest to give her other breast the same treatment.