Roughing

How are we going to fit inside such a small space?

Bash is a big guy. While I’m petite, I’m also curvy.

Once Bash gets in with me, we’re sandwiched together with no room to move. I press my palm against his chest, pushing him beneath the water. He hooks an arm around my back, sending chills down my spine, even with the warmth of the water beating down on my face. We share an intense moment, our eyes trained on one another, before Bash reaches behind me, pulling me closer. He takes the bottle of shampoo from the ledge and rubs it into my hair. He’s so much taller than me that my face is almost mashed against his chest, as he massages my scalp. Soap slides down the side of my face and onto my chest. There’s something so sensual about this scalp massage that my nipples harden with each touch. My legs are trembling, and this time, it’s all Bash.

“Bash,” I moan with my eyes closed. This is so fucking erotic that my pussy is throbbing.

He continues to wash my hair, and the water splashes my face. I wish he’d touch me in other places. At this moment, I want him to reach between my legs and take care of the real problem.

“I think my hair is clean,” I tell him after ten minutes of him repeating the same process.

He chuckles, and his laughter is contagious. I open my eyes, and the two of us stand there, looking at each other, laughing. “You look even sexier when you’re wet, Tori.” Cupping my cheek with his big hand, he gazes into my eyes. “Letting you go was the biggest mistake I ever made.”

“I know,” I say, choking on the water filling my mouth. “You’re an idiot.”

“The biggest,” he confesses. “I missed you.”

“Things are different now, Bash.”

“I know that, but just let me show you that I’m not as bad as you think. I swear I never meant to hurt you.”

“This is intense shower talk,” I say with a wide grin. “Why don’t you help me finish up in here? Hand me the body wash.”

Instead of allowing me to do it, Bash puts a glob of soap on his finger and smears it down my arm, working it into my skin. The heat from his touch spreads down from my arms and to my toes. I hate myself for falling back under his spell. This is why I dodged him on campus every chance I got since our breakup. Being around Bash always made me weak. Nothing has changed. He still commands my body, forcing it to bend to his will.

I tilt my head back against his chest, allowing the water to wash over me. “You make showering fun.” The corners of my mouth turn up into a smile that mirrors his.

I hand him the loofa from the shelf. He soaps it up and drags it over my chest, causing tiny bumps to prick my skin. Staring up at his big, green eyes that slice right through me, I have a hard time catching my breath.

Bash was always too good to be true. Guys like him don’t settle down with girls like me. He’s rich, the son of a professional football player, amazing in bed, built like a model, and he’s smart. Of course, he even has the brains to back up his beauty. His scholarship to Strickland was both sports and academics.

He’s so fucking perfect with his perfect teeth, perfect, smile, perfect body, and perfect life. I never fit into the equation. But things are different. Maybe I was wrong about him. Would the old Bash keep me company all weekend and wash my hair, of all things? I doubt it. He had moments where he was boyfriend material in the past but nothing like this. Sometimes, people take you by surprise. I wonder if Bash will be one of them.

I suck in a deep breath and let it out, preparing myself for his reaction. “I’m going to take off my bra. I can’t get washed with my bra and panties on, so I don’t know maybe turn around or something.”

He does as I ask without a word and faces the wall. His back is ripped with muscle that reaches down to his thick calves. I trace a finger over the tattoo on his right shoulder. Free of markings, except this one, it’s hard to miss the two crowns looped through one another. One appears larger than the other, fit for a king, with a more tiara looking one interconnected.

“When did you get this?” I ask, feeling the rough edges of the tattoo.

“Right before we broke up,” he says, his voice strained.

“What does it mean?”

He keeps his eyes on the wall; his head tilted down at the floor. “Do you want to know?”

I shake my head at him, even though he can’t see me. Do I want to know? No…yes…maybe. Why the hell not? “Yes, of course. I wouldn’t have asked if I wasn’t curious.”

“I got it because of you.” I get a little choked up by his confession, managing to suck down the emotions that consume me. “My last name is Prince, and you were always my queen.”

Overwhelmed by emotion

, I hug him from behind. He grips my hands in his, holding on tight. This day has taken an unexpected turn.

“You got this because of me?” I ask with my lips pressed against his skin. “I don’t know what to say.”

Pressing his palm flat against the tiled wall, he leans forward. The water trickles down his back, splashing me in the face. “You don’t have to say anything. I didn’t even want you to know about it. We already have enough weirdness between us.”

Bash cared about me a lot more than I had realized. Otherwise, why would he make such a permanent gesture? Tears fill my eyes, and before I know it, I’m sobbing against his back. Now, I know for sure I have a concussion because my emotions are broken.