I take Kit's hand to pull him closer. His body is hard against mine.
He's hard.
His lips are soft and sweet, but there's something off about his kiss. He's not here yet. Not back with me yet.
I pull back enough to step into the shower. Warm water pounds my back and shoulders. I lean back enough for it to wet my hair.
There's still a far off look in Kit's eyes.
I don't like it.
I motion come here.
He takes a minute to catch the gesture, but he does step into the shower with me and plant his body next to mine.
I scoot back enough for the shower to hit him too. It's a damn fine site, watching water drip off his shoulders and chest, all the way down his stomach.
"Kit." I run my fingers over his chest. "Are you that serious about me?"
He cocks a brow.
"That you think this will still be something in five or ten years?"
He nods.
God, I like the sound of that.
I rise to my tip toes to press my lips to his. It's a quick kiss, a taste.
This time, he kisses back. His tongue slides into my mouth and fuck, that piercing. Every brush of it sends sparks straight to my core. I try to dig my nails into his skin but it's too slick to get a grip.
Gently, I push him forward enough that the water is pounding my back. His hands go to my ass and pull me closer.
Then he's kissing me harder.
Deeper.
Groaning into my mouth.
He's back.
He must feel it too—that this is something serious, that it's worth the risk of everything going to shit.
I run my hands over his muscular arms. The water makes him slick. It's easy to explore every inch of his strong arms and shoulders.
He groans as I run my hands over his back. God, that sound is music. His kiss gets harder, more aggressive. His fingers dig into my ass.
Slowly, I run my fingers over every inch of his back. His hips. His strong thighs.
I have no idea what I'm doing, but I know I want to make him feel good. I want to make him groan like that again.
I press my palm against his stomach. Then lower. Over his happy trail.
My palm brushes his cock.
Kit shudders. "Piper."
I run my fingers along his length, over his tip. His skin is soft, and wet, but he's hard. And the way he groans when my thumb brushes his tip—