From the other side came the sound of her shower running.

She had a man in her shower.

Good Lord, she had a man in her shower. Picturing Sam in there all hot and naked, using her soap, rubbing his hands over his body, was making her good parts tingle. And she had a lot of good parts, many more than she remembered . . .

She smiled in relief, then shook her head at herself. Why was she fantasizing about the naked man in her shower instead of being in the shower with the naked man?

She chewed on her thumbnail another moment, giving brief thought to being shy, but then quickly discarded that as it hadn’t gotten her anywhere all year.

Open the door, Becca.

She opened the door.

Steam rolled over her as the water beat against the tile floor. Taking a deep breath, she fixed her eyes on the sight before her. The glass door was fogged over but she could see the faint outline of Sam’s body. She had a side view, and it was a good one. He had one hand braced on the wall in front of him, his head hanging low as he let the water pound between his shoulder blades.

Becca’s gaze followed the trail of water down his sleek back, over the perfect, succulent curve of his ass, and down the backs of his legs to his feet.

He was gorgeous.

Sweating now, she had to strip off her bulky sweatshirt. At the movement, he glanced over. Seeing her there, his gaze went fiery and suggestive. Teeming with raw passion, he reached for the soap, running his hands with perfunctory speed and precision over himself.

Becca stared. She started to say something, but then he wrapped his hand around himself. Eyes locked on hers, he held on but didn’t stroke, and she got all hot and bothered from wishing he would. “You didn’t lock the door,” she managed. “So I, um. . .”

He smiled a very dangerous, alluring smile.

She stood there, her entire body vibrating with need, but trying desperately to be cool, like having a man in her shower was no big deal. In truth, it was a big deal. A huge big deal. Her heart was just about racing right out of her chest.

Her terms, she reminded herself. This was on her terms and she was in control. She could stop this at any time.

But she already knew she wasn’t going to want to stop.

Sam lifted his hands and shoved his hair back from his face.

Her body tingled. And though he was the one in the shower, she was the one getting damp. Reaching over to a drawer, she pulled out the sole condom she had. She’d gotten it as a party favor a few years back, and because it was blue, and blueberry-flavored to boot, and an “extra, extra” large, she’d kept it for laughs. It’d been a while since she’d had use for a condom, and she sort of wished it wasn’t blue, but it was better than nothing.

Water and suds continued to sluice down Sam’s body, and, even hotter now, Becca pulled off another item of clothing—her long-sleeved tee.

Sam swiped at the fogged-up glass on the shower, presumably to better see her, and smiled. “You’ve got a lot of layers on.”

She flushed. “I was cold earlier.”

“I’ll keep you warm.”

She utterly believed him. She pushed off her flannel PJ bottoms next, which left her in a thin cotton cami and an equally thin pair of cotton panties.

Given the fire in Sam’s eyes, he approved, but she hesitated, because whatever came off next was going to reveal more of her than had been seen by another human being in a while.

“Keep going,” he said, voice husky.


When she didn’t move, he gave her a come-here finger crook.

Her legs took her the last few steps, and then she was in the shower, the water plastering her cami and panties to her body.

Sam groaned at the sight and hooked an arm around her, settling a hand low on her back, pulling her into him. He did this slowly, giving her plenty of time to stop him.

She didn’t.

Not only didn’t she stop him, she reached up and slid her fingers into his wet hair and pulled him down, hoping for a mindless kiss.

“You’re shaking,” he murmured. “Still cold?”


He met her gaze. “You’re nervous.”

“Aren’t you?”

He gave her a heart-melting smile. “It’s going to be good, Becca, I promise.”

Another promise. She could have told him she didn’t believe in them, but there was something so absolute about his voice, something so sure in his eyes. “Okay,” she whispered.

He smiled against her lips, and then brought his other hand up, tilting her face to suit him as he kissed her. Soft at first, then serious and demanding, and though she’d hoped he’d take her out of her own head for a while. He did even better than that, and an utterly unexpected wave of desire washed over her. She sank her fingers into his thick, unruly hair and held on.

He was right so far. It was good.

So good she lost herself in the sensations of being held, the barrage of heat and need, and a hunger so strong it made her weak in the knees.

When was the last time a man had made her weak in the knees?

A long time.

Too long.

His tongue swept along hers, and she moaned into his mouth. At the sound, Sam pulled back and gave her a very hot look. She tugged him in again because he was a good kisser. The best kisser. In fact, he was the king of all kissers, so much so that when he ended the next kiss, she’d have slithered to the shower floor in a boneless heap of arousal if he wasn’t holding her up with a strong arm around her back. The fingers of his other hand unpeeled hers to see what she still held fisted. When he caught sight of the extra-large blueberry condom, he smiled.