My cock springs into action. "Soon, meaning we can have shower sex, but I can’t wash your back." I lean down and take her lips.
"I can work with that," she says, and forty minutes later, I’m stepping out of the shower alone. "That was good," she says, and I laugh to myself as I grab the white towel and dry off. "Not as good as the kitchen but still okay."
I look over at her, seeing her wash her hair now. "Are you rating us?"
"Yes," she says without skipping a beat.
"What was the worst?" I ask, and I stand with my hands on my hips.
"They were never bad." She shakes her head. "There are just some times that were better than the last."
"Okay?" I lean back on the counter and fold my arms over my chest. "Which one was number one?"
"It’s a tie," she answers me, rinsing her hair. "Between the first time and the kitchen table." I want to say something, but I don’t because she continues talking. "Like the first time will always be special because it was the first time you touched me. But the kitchen is just..." She rubs the shower door to see me through it. "The kitchen was animalistic. It’s like you couldn't stand it no more, and you just had to have me. It was hot."
"I didn’t hurt you?" I ask her.
"You aren’t going to break me," she says, turning off the water now. “You can’t medically break my vagina. Medically, you can tear my vagina but not break it. But that only happens when someone is dry down there."
"Am I really having this conversation?" I ask, and I hear her phone ringing from somewhere in the house. "I’ll be right back." She laughs.
I walk to the kitchen, but I come face-to-face with Ethan, who stands there with his phone in his hand. "I was calling."
He spots me with just a towel on. "Can you go and get dressed, please”—he shuts his eyes tight—"and I’m going to pretend that my sister isn’t in the shower with you."
"I’m not in the shower." I point at myself. "I’m out of the shower." I point out to him. "Which means I’m not in the shower with your sister."
"Thank fuck," he says.
"I mean, I just left her in the shower." He groans as I walk over to my bedroom. "But I’m not in there with her now."
"Tonight, you get your own car,” he says, and I walk into the room and get dressed.
When I walk back out, Ethan is sitting at the counter drinking coffee and Chelsea is dressed in shorts and a top, her hair wrapped in a towel. "I’m just starting breakfast."
"I told her we would get something on the way, but she’s sturbborn," Ethan says.
"My man needs his energy," she says, winking at Ethan, and then he pushes away from the counter, making her laugh.
"And we are out," he says, and she laughs even harder. "I’m waiting in the car."
"I have to go and buy some new clothes,” I say. "I have a couple of things left from what Ethan brought over."
"I can go and grab you a couple of things if you want,” she says. "With Amelia." The uneasiness is hitting me in the stomach.
"I’ll see if Quinn can come with you,” I say, and she rolls her eyes at me. "I’ll see you later."
"You bet your ass you will," she says and leans her head back for a kiss. "I’ll call Quinn. He likes me better than you."
"Good call," I say, walking out of the house and going over to the truck. "She’s going shopping."
"I’ll get someone to trail her," Ethan says, typing something in the phone.
"She is going to call Quinn." He nods at me as we make our way to the barn.
We walk in, and Casey is there waiting for us. "Morning,” I say, and he just smiles at me.
"Morning," he says. "Do you have a couple of minutes?"
Ethan slaps me on the shoulder. "I’ll get that thing going."
Casey waits for Ethan to walk away from us before he talks. "How are you doing?"
"Good," I say, and he just looks at me. "I’m anxious but okay. I just want to find him and get this over with."
"Especially now that you are dating my niece." He cuts right to the chase.
"Is that going to be a problem for you?" I ask, but I don’t wait for him to say anything. "Because if it is, I can continue this on my own."
"I want you to work for me," he says, and I shake my head.
"I can get my own job," I say.
"I know you can," he says, "but I need someone like you on my team." He pushes off now from the desk he was leaning on. "Come with me," he says, walking over to the room I spent all of yesterday in. He turns on the light in the room, and I see the whiteboard I was working on. “This,” he says, pointing at the board where I started doing a timeline for my father. “This is what you’re good at."