I don’t bother reaching for the loofah.

I simply brace my shoulder against the tile wall, close my eyes, and let the hot water run over me, easing deep muscle aches as it rinses away the stickiness.

Images flicker against the back of my eyelids. Paul’s smile as I toed off my sneakers so I’d glide across the dance floor instead of sticking to it, the look in his eyes the second before he tilted his head and used his mouth to claim mine, his expression as his hands explored every single inch of my body.

My knees tremble as my body recalls exactly what his hands feel like against my skin. My blood runs as hot as the water pounding over me.

What is it about Paul that’s so different from any of the men I’ve known?

What is it about him that allowed me to step into his arms and finally trust someone with my body?

Granted, I’ve met some real weasels in my time – what woman hasn’t? – and since opening the bar, they seem to have come out of the woodwork, each one thinking they were some gift to all womankind and convinced that the pretty bartender would want nothing more than to sleep with them, which I didn’t.

But I’ve also known, dated even, some really great guys. Guys I’ve known a lot longer than Paul, but each time they kissed me, something caused me to hold back. But with Paul, there was no hesitation, simply a sense of trust and … Rightness.

Is that even a word? I don’t know, but it feels right to me.

I’ll admit it. I keep expecting to regret what we did, to realize that I’ve made a massive mistake and lost a part of me that I’ll never get back, but so far, that just hasn’t happened. The only thing I feel is a warm glow that starts in my chest, and has spread all the way to my fingers and toes.

And when Paul leaves and regret settles over me, I decide, I won’t let it consume me. I’ll just keep reminding myself how I feel in this very moment.

The subtle squeak of the door pulls me out of my mind. Through the heavily fogged glass shower door, I watch a blurry figure stop in the middle of the bathroom, their body seeming to fill the small room as they shed their pants before reaching for the door.

My heart thunders against my rib cage, beating so hard, so fast, it borders on pain.

The shower door slides open and Paul steps into the shower in a single, fluid movement.

His gaze catches mine.

“Since you’re not the only one who’s a bit sticky, I figure I should join you. Save on the amount of water we’d use if we took separate showers.”

Nerves dance beneath my skin and I move my arms, using one to shield my breast, and the other to cover my lower body. Silly, considering that Paul has already had his hand, and his mouth, all over me, but I can’t help it. Downstairs, I turned the lighting to dim; we were in more shadow than light, but in this room, the light is bright and unforgiving.

Someone like Paul, he probably dates the most beautiful women in the world. I’m pretty enough, and normally I’m proud of my body, but I’m also painfully aware of the ten or fifteen extra pounds I’ve put on, mostly in my hips and belly, since opening the Blind Pig. They aren’t pretty pounds.

“Don’t,” Paul breathes.

He reaches out, bracketing his fingers around my wrists and lifting them until they’re pinned against the wall just above my head. The position would be sexy if my face wasn’t burning with shame. It takes everything in me to stay in place and not twist to the side.

“Don’t ever hide yourself from me.” Paul rocks back on his heels. He alters his grip until he’s holding my wrists with one hand. With the other, he reaches down, covering me. The touch feels both possessive and comforting. “You’re beautiful.”

I open my mouth, but don’t know what to say. It turns out that I don’t need to say anything. Without moving his hands, Paul leans forwards and captures my mouth with his in a kiss that tastes like fresh water and a whole lot of passion.

Time slows and the kiss goes on and on, a lazy exploration of one another’s mouths, neither of us wanting to break contact, attempting to commit our tastes to memory.

My muscles lengthen and then soften, until it feels like the only thing keeping me vertical is Paul’s hands.

Eventually, he draws back, breaking the kiss, leaving me gasping. His gaze captures mine and a slow smile spreads across his face, deepening a pair of dimples on either side of his mouth.

I ache to cover those twin dents with kisses.

“Now, let’s see about getting you cleaned up. Hmm.” Releasing me, Paul reaches for my loofah and perfumed shower gel.

The scent of strawberries fills the enclosed space, mingling with the steam as he pours a generous portion of the soap onto the loofah. My nipples harden and heat pools between my legs in anticipation of his touch. I stare as he rubs the mesh bits together, turning the pool of soap into a mountain of sweet-smelling foam.

I wonder where he’s going to begin using it.

He shifts close to me, his body pressing into mine, pinning me to the wet tile wall, and plants a quick, hard kiss on my mouth before swiping the loofah up my arm, across my collar bone and down my left breast.

Together we watch the trail of suds he leaves in his wake slide down my body. I moan, my thighs falling apart as the loofah moves even lower, across the gentle swell of my belly, over my pelvis, and finally buries itself deep between my thighs.

Assaulted by sensations I can’t even begin to describe, I close my eyes tightly and bow my head. I sink my teeth into Paul’s wet shoulder, muffling my instinctive cries.

Paul chuckles, but his body trembles against mine, telling me that he’s as turned on by what he’s doing as I am.

I buck against him, begging with my body. Asking for him to take me. My pussy burns for his touch.

The loofah falls to the floor with a wet splat as Paul wedges his hand more firmly between my thighs. His fingers probe against the skin, which our earlier activities have made even more tender than normal. His nail scrapes against my nub, ripping a shocked gasp from me.

He brushes kisses against my cheek, whispering words I’m incapable of understanding, while he continues to probe and stroke until finally, one thick finger slides into me, finding my G-spot.

I groan as his finger slides in and out, teasing, torturing, promising, but not quite bringing me the climax I know is about to rip through me.

“Please,” I gasp. “I can’t take … much more … of this.”

Each word feels like it’s being ripped from my very soul.

Paul’s gasps mingle with my own as he slides his hand free. Before I can fully mourn the loss of his touch, he reaches down, his hand sliding over my shaking thigh, lifting it and wrapping it around his waist. He repeats the process with my other leg and uses his massive chest to pin me to the slick wall.

He peppers my lips with quick, sharp biting kisses that make my heart race. I clutch at him. My fingers rake at his back as the tip of his cock probes my entrance.

I hold my breath, waiting for the intrusion. But it doesn’t come. Instead, Paul rears back and stares deep into my eyes.

“Are you sure about this?” he asks, pent-up desire making his words thick and heavy. “You aren’t too sore?”

Emotion, hot, bright, and unidentifiable, bubbles up in my chest, triggering tears that I hope Paul mistakes as droplets of water. How was I so lucky to find a guy who not only rocks my world, but is also a genuine sweetheart? I’m the luckiest girl in the world.

Throwing my arms around his neck, I hug him tightly while giving him a deep kiss. “I’m positive.”

He doesn’t need to hear anything else. With a sharp cry, his hips jerk forward, slamming into me as my inner walls clamp down on his cock, welcoming it like it’s a long-lost friend.

That’s all that’s needed to trigger my orgasm.

Familiar fireworks explode behind my closed lids. I throw my head back, not caring that the hot water streams over my face. My legs spasm against his hips while my stomach convulses.

God, it must be a crime for anything to feel so good.

I’m dimly aware of Paul’s body tensing, of his own cry as he reaches his release.

Together, we slide down the wall until we collapse in a tangle of arms and legs on the bottom of the tub while the hot water beats down on us.