“It’s not like I haven’t seen you naked, Tori. But I understand. You can wear a bathing suit or your underwear or whatever you want. Or you can do it yourself. Whatever you decide. I’ll be here if you need me.”
I scratch the back of my head, confused by the new side to Bash. I like this version. Where was he hiding all these years? It’s no wonder I allowed him to kiss me and take things a little too far before I got my shit together. He’s so unlike the person I used to know. This new side also makes me miss him. And I can’t miss or want Bash. We’re toxic together.
Once I get better, he will be back to his usual player self, hooking up with rich, beautiful girls like Harper. A few seconds pass before his eyes light with realization. “Let me help you, Tori. I know you don’t like me or want me around, but you need me.”
He’s right about that. My head still hurts, and with my stomach upset from having the spins most of the day, I could use someone to hold me up while I’m in the shower. Luckily, the apartment I share with Jessica has a private bathroom. While it’s on the small side, it does the trick. And we get to avoid using the disgusting shared bathrooms in Jefferson Hall.
“I’d like to get in now. Do you mind?”
“Nope, not at all.”
He grabs hold of my biceps and leads me to the bathroom. I stare at Bash in the mirror, a tiny smile tugging at the corner of my lips. He returns the gesture, unspeaking or blinking until I end the silence.
“Can you get the water ready? Not too hot, not too cold.”
He laughs. “Whatever you say, Queenie. Keep barking out those orders. I like it when you’re bossy. It’s a turn on.”
I slap my legs together when he tilts his head to the side and checks out my ass. Every time he stares at my bare legs in these booty-hugging shorts, he flashes a wicked grin.
I fold my arms over my chest and lean against the sink, watching as Bash adjusts the knobs to get the right temperature. After a minute of awkward sexual tension, Bash pulls his shirt over his head, making things even more uncomfortable.
“What are you doing?” I mutter, unable to take my eyes of his body.
He’s the hottest naked man I’ve ever seen. Well, he’s the only one I have had the pleasure of appraising in person, but that fact doesn’t make him any less attractive. I must have a legit concussion, in need of a doctor, because Bash’s chiseled arms and rock hard abs are doing things between my legs that I wish would stop.
“I’m getting in with you. How else do you think I will help you?” He unbuttons his jeans and slides them over his hips, making it hard for me to keep it together as I gawk at his body.
I bite down on my bottom lip when Bash moves in front of me and tugs at the bottom of my shirt. “Lift your arms,” he says.
Doing as he says, my heart beats out of my chest. He had my nipple in his mouth two hours ago. It’s not as if he hasn’t seen me naked. He took my virginity for Christ’s sake. Stripping me of my shirt, he throws it onto the floor and waits for me to give him the go ahead to help me out of my shorts. Any movements that require bending or looking down make me sick.
So, I nod, telling him to remove my shorts. And he does, staring up at me as he slides them to the floor. I kick them to the side, and then, step into the shower stall, tiled from floor to ceiling, feeling the water with my hand.
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.
Even over the water, he can hear me crying. When he told me he loved me, as I walked away from him all those years ago, he meant it. I thought he was full of shit. He squeezes my hands tighter against his stomach before he turns around to face me.
Wiping my cheek with his finger, he says, “Don’t be upset. I’m here now. That’s all that matters. Let’s spend our time in the present, not in the past. Okay?”
“Bash,” I mutter under my breath.
“Tori,” he whispers.
“Kiss me.” I place my hand on his chest, and he dips down to kiss my lips, lifting me up in the process.
He rakes his fingers through my hair, shoving the wet strands off my face. “You’re so fucking beautiful, Tori.”
Hooking my legs around his middle, I dig my heels into his back. Once our tongues collide, I’m so consumed by Bash that I could kiss him all day without coming up for air. As our lips separate, I have trouble breathing. Every assumption I’d had about Bash has gone out the window. I feel bonded to him, the same way I had when we were dating.
Would he say and do these things just for sex?
Most girls on campus throw themselves at Bash. One foot out the door, and they are begging him to use them up and spit them out. That has always been his M.O. Seeing a different side to Bash gives me a new appreciation for him.
It also makes me wish I had heard him out when he tried to explain the girl I found in his bed all those years ago. Everyone misjudges him because of his looks, money, and star power. Even me. He said there was more to the story. Maybe I should hear him out.
After he finishes exploring my body with his mouth, he moves back up to my face. He holds me against the tile, pressing his lips to mine with so much passion behind each kiss, and this doesn’t feel like just sex. It’s so much more. My new feelings for Bash are so foreign yet welcome.
How have I let him get this far? What are we even doing? He’s supposed to help me nurse a concussion, not give me an orgasm.
I stare into his eyes, and my mouth opens wide, as he reaches between my legs. He peels back my panties, rolling the pad of his thumb over my clit before he slips his finger inside my wetness. Bash leaves a trail of kisses down my skin, from my neck to my breasts, before taking my nipple in his mouth. He plunges his fingers deeper, and I tremble beneath him, my breathing labored and sounding like a purr as I moan his name.
As always, my body responds to Bash, as if made for him. Moving faster, Bash knows how I like it. He knows what to do to make me come. One thing we never had a problem with is our sexual chemistry.
I dig my nails into his shoulders and scream his name once more, my body writhing beneath him.
“Come for me,” he says, and I do. I come so fucking hard on his fingers, clamping down on them as my orgasm rocks through my body.
Bash removes his fingers to suck on them before smearing what’s left of my juices across my lips. I stick my tongue out to taste, not breaking eye contact, and he takes my face in his hands. His kisses are so passionate, causing my toes to curl in anticipation of more. I never want this moment to end.
After our lips part, I lean my head against the wall and whisper, “Bash.”
“Uh-huh,” he mutters, still holding me up against the wall.
I lock eyes with him. “I think I want you to fuck me.”
He cocks an eyebrow at me. “You think? Either you do, or you don’t, babe.”
The corner of my mouth turns up into a wicked grin. “I do. But that might just be the concussion talking.”
“Shit,” he says, looking away. “I wasn’t even thinking. I’m supposed to be taking care of you, not taking advantage.”
“You are taking care of me,” I say with a smile on my lips. “My pussy was throbbing, and you made it all better.”
He shakes his head, laughing. “You have no idea how much I missed you. No fucking clue.”
Twisting my fingers through his dark hair, I say against his lips. “How about you show me?”
And just like that, we let our mouths and bodies do the talking. Everything about this feels so right.
Chapter 8
Bash
After we finish making out in the shower, Tori strolls into her bedroom and drops her towel, peeking up at me beneath her brows. She’s so fucking beautiful my dick gets hard with one look. I couldn’t have sex with her, even though she begged me. This weekend is about nursing her back to health—not getting her off. While I’m glad I was able to do that for her, I cannot take advantage of this situation, no matter how many times she tries to convince me that it’s okay and that she wants this.
For all I know, she’s having complications that are making her say and do things she wouldn’t normally do. I don’t need her having a moment of regret and assume that I am only here for sex. Because I’m not. It was never about sex with Tori. That was just a bonus.
I’m about to help her to bed, when she flings her arms out at her sides, her tits shaking in my face. Tori is not making this easy for me. Hard, horny, and rocking the worst case of blue balls, I want to bend her over and fuck her so bad. But I have to fight the urge. She needs my help in other ways, and I plan to show Tori she can count on me for more than an orgasm.
I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear and bend down to kiss her forehead, hooking my arm around her back. She stirs in my arms, her eyes closed, as she mumbles my name under her breath. Running my fingers down her arm, I let out a sigh. I’ve never been so happy to have a naked woman standing in front of me, except this is different. Tori isn’t just any naked woman.
She opens her eyes and smiles up at me. We stare at each other for minutes. My heart thumps out of my chest, overcome with a strange mixture of emotions. When it comes to football, my hands are steady as fuck, but when I’m around Tori, she makes me nervous, a feeling so foreign it feels unnatural. I’m always in control—except when it comes to Tori.
She leans in as if she’s about to reach up and kiss me before she slips from my grasp to sit on the bed. I follow her lead, the mattress sinking beneath my weight.
Her naked body is too much of a distraction for me, so I focus on her face. But her lips make me think about how they would feel wrapped around my cock, which makes me hard again. Leaning back against the wall, I thread my fingers together and slide them behind my head.
She’s beautiful, her smooth alabaster skin absolute perfection. With her perky tits and pussy on display as an offering just for me, I’m so goddamn hard I cannot think straight. But I find it impossible not to look at her.
For a second, her eyes fall to her breasts. She peeks up at me and pulls her bottom lip down with her index finger. “Don’t you want me, Bash?” She coos, killing me with the seductive look in her eyes.
“Of course, I do, but you need to rest.”
I don’t miss the disappointment on her face, which makes me feel like the dickhead she assumes I still am. I’m trying to do right by her. If only she would see it that way.
“Look,” I continue, “I want you more than I wanted The Heisman, but not under these circumstances. I feel like I’m taking advantage of you with your condition.”
She blows out a gust of air, and her face twists in anger. “I don’t get it, Bash. You’ll fuck girls like Harper but not me?”
“
It has nothing to do with you or her,” I say, feeling like an asshole because she’s right. “It has to do with you being sick. I asked you to let me stay here with you this weekend for one reason. No matter how much I want you, I think we should wait until you’re feeling better.”
She sighs but looks as though she understands, and points at a tall chest on the other end of the room. “Would you mind handing me a shirt from my top drawer and some underwear?”
“Of course.” I slide off the bed and pull a Strickland University T-shirt from the drawer and a pair of black cotton panties.
“Sit up, so I can help you get these on,” I command.
Accepting my help, she allows me to slip the tee over her head. I pull her arms through the sleeves and tug it over her stomach, finding it even harder not to touch her again.
Curling the soft cotton around her finger, she hikes it further and raises an eyebrow at me. “You forget the last part of my wardrobe.”
I laugh at her comment and give her a hand. She tortures me, taking her good old time, as she raises her hips just enough to slide the panties on.
Her hair brushes against my cheek when she leans back against the wall with me, the scent of her sweet shampoo filling my nostrils. She laces her fingers between mine and runs the pad of her thumb over my knuckles. “I hate that this feels right when I’m with you.”
I slip my other hand through her hair and bring her closer to me. “There’s nothing wrong with that. We were always good together.”
She lays her head on my chest and whispers, “I just don’t see how we can get past everything. But I appreciate you being here with me.”
“You’re welcome.” I kiss her forehead. “Why don’t you get some sleep? You need to get better, so I can take you out.”
She looks up at me, confused. “Take me where?”
“On a proper date.”
“You want to take me on a date?” I don’t miss the shock in her tone. “I know you feel bad about everything, but that’s not necessary.”
Roughing Page 7
