Sleep pulls at me, beckoning me with its siren’s call, making it difficult to keep my eyes open. Just as I’m about to give in, Jason rolls off me and leaps to his feet.

“Come on.”

I crack one eye open a slit and look at the hand he’s extending down to me. “I thought guys were supposed to fall asleep right after sex, and girls were the ones who were supposed to have all sorts of energy.”

Jason shrugs. “Maybe. Could be we’re breaking the mold. Or it could be that since I work out and you don’t, I have more stamina.”

“If that’s some weird and devious plot to get me to lift more weights, you can bite me.” The experience was interesting, but it wasn’t one I want to repeat anytime soon.

He waggles his eyebrows. If I wasn’t so tired, I’d giggle. “With pleasure.”

He doesn’t wait for me to take his hand. Instead he reaches down and grabs hold of both of my mine and hauls me to my feet. Not an easy task, since this last round of lovemaking has left me completely boneless.

He wraps an arm around my shoulders, pulling me in tight against his torso, steadying me. “Come one Sleeping Beauty, let’s get you cleaned up.”

I groan. “Do we have to?” Getting cleaned up seems like so much effort right now. I’d rather just curl up in a ball and sleep for a few hours.

Instead of leading me upstairs like I expect, he turns me to the far side of the basement. Eventually, we reach a door which opens into the most amazing bathroom I’ve ever seen. Its appearance is enough to wake me up.

“You have a shower in your basement?”

“Yeah,” Jason says. “It was one of the things I insisted on when the contractors were getting the house ready for me. I wanted it down here, where I work out, so I could shower and change and not worry about my post-work-out sweat stinking up the entire house.”

I nod to the mini washer and dryer installed against one wall. “And this is also where you do your laundry?” I notice that my cell phone is nowhere to be seen.

Jason shakes his head. “Nope, not exactly. Working on the same concept that I didn’t want my entire house to smell like a men’s locker room, I had those set up in here so I can throw my stinky, gross clothes right in them and wash them here. I have a standard sized set upstairs for the rest of my laundry.”

Of course he does.

The entire place is done in snow white and gleaming chrome. The only exception is the marble countertop, which is a lovely swirl of pale gray and black. The room is almost bigger than my entire apartment. In addition to the standard toilet and shower, there’s an enormous whirlpool-style bathtub that looks like it could easily hold nine or ten people.

A mini washer and drier sit side by side along one wall.

In addition to a few vanilla-scented candles, there are several ferns, each one planted in a gleaming chrome pot, in the room. I don’t know why, but the ferns are what make the room feel truly decadent.

I have to be careful about how I move whenever I’m in my bathroom, since the slightest change in balance results in banging my funny bone against a wall, and Jason has a bathroom that comes complete with washer and drier. Talk about different lifestyles.

Jason reaches into the shower and twirls a few knobs. Water runs and a moment later, steam fills the air. I close my eyes and inhale the damp air. Even the steam smells and feels nicer than what the shower in my apartment produces.

Without saying a word, Jason slowly peels his sex-rumpled dress shirt from my shoulders and tosses it in the general direction of the cute little washing machine.

Instead of moving to get into the shower like I expect, we stand in the middle of the luxurious bathroom for a few seconds. Jason’s gaze roves over my body, like he’s never seen it before and is trying to commit it to memory.

He reaches out and lightly touches the pale scar that bisects my stomach.

My muscles contract and I take a step backwards, moving away from his touch, my movement causing the thick cloud of steam surrounding us to swirl.

“What happened?” he asks, his voice so soft I can barely hear it above the running water.

I place my hands over my stomach, hiding the scar. It’s funny, I haven’t thought about it in years. It’s a part of me, no different than the light freckles across the bridge of my nose or the pale pink birthmark on the back of my left thigh. “It’s nothing.”

He quirks a brow. “It looks more serious than nothing.”

“It happened a long time ago.”

Jason’s lips form a tight thin line and I brace myself for more questions that I can’t possibly answer.

He must sense my resistance because after a moment, he relaxes and gesture to the running shower. “After you.”

I step over the edge of the shallow tub and into the shower, where the steam is so thick I can barely make out the opposite wall. Cross streams of hot water startle me, the spray hitting me with more force than my tired old shower apartment sprayer could ever handle.

“Wow,” I mutter as the initial surprise fades and I quickly decide that I can easily get used to being able to soak each inch of my body at the same time instead of constantly being forced to turn this way and that in order to rinse myself.

Jason steps in behind me, crowding me against the far wall. Slicking my already sopping hair away from my face, I turn to look at him through the spray and steam. I angle my neck so the water doesn’t spray directly into my mouth.

“This is amazing,” I tell him.

His smoldering eyes lock on mine. “You’re amazing,” he tells me in a guttural tone. He moves in closer, his big body crowding up against me until my spine presses against the slick shower tiles and he seals his mouth over mine, in a kiss that’s so deep and wet it robs me of my breath.

Panting, we break apart.

His eyes pierce me as his hands drop down, skimming my sides, the slow circling motions of his thumbs sending electric sparks of pleasure radiating over my skin as I squirm against the shower wall. He lowers his head, his mouth finding the space the between my shoulder and neck and setting fire to the tiny cluster of erogenous nerves that sit there. Desire coats my inner thighs.

I reach for him, my nails biting into his shoulders, as much out of desire as to hold myself steady.

I wait for him to wedge a knee between my thighs, to part them and enter me in one long slow thrust. That feels like what should happen.

Instead, Jason bends his knees, never lifting his mouth, instead allowing it to glide down my body, leaving a trail of heart stopping, electrifying kisses in its wake until his knees strike the bottom of the tub.

Only then does his mouth break contact as he tips his head back and stares up at me, an unspoken question in his eyes, water streaming down his face.

I bury my hands in his silky wet curls and let my legs part.

Jason flashes me a grin before turning his attention back to my aching body.

His finger strokes, with agonizing slowness, my lower lips, triggering a fresh flood of moisture. Once than twice more, his fingers repeat the motion.

My knees shake and my fingers tighten in his hair. “Jason,” I gasp, and my voice sounds like it’s coming from a long way away. “Stop teasing.”

He chuckles and places a light kiss on my hip, his tongue licking the drops of water from my flesh.

His finger strokes me again, sending a fresh wave of anticipation sizzling through me.

I thrust my hips forward in a desperate attempt to seek some relief for the ache that’s steadily building in my core.

“Patience,” Jason hums, the word barely audible above the shower spray. “Good things to come to those who wait.”

Yeah right, I think as I twist my fingers into his hair and arch by back of the slippery shower tiles. Easy for him to say.

I’m so busy trying to control my building climax, I don’t notice Jason leaning closer until the tip of his tongue brushes against my clitoris. The contact sends me onto the balls of my feet as I cry out. Seemingly never-ending sparks followed by shards of heat radiate through my pussy.

My feet slide sideways against the bottom of the shallow porcelain tub, widening my stance and allowing him to delve deeper with his thrusting, exploring tongue. He rotates between gentle caresses that make me tremble and sharp bites that send me careening closer and closer to the orgasm that I just know is going to rip me apart.

He presses himself more firmly against me, the combination of the warm water and his hot breath driving me wild even before he catches my clit between his teeth. The tip of his tongue flicks over it one last time, and that’s all it takes for me to come apart.

My scream bounces around the room as I surrender to the inevitable and drown under a tidal wave of white hot fire.