7
Not only did the water droplets cascading down feel good, but so did Caleb’s hands as he lathered and repeated . . . and repeated.
“I normally wouldn’t shower with a man on a first date,” I sighed as his hands massaged.
“This isn’t a first date,” he said, as his massaging hands descended. “I promise to take you out on a proper date.”
“Then what is this?” I asked, wondering if his hands were going to stop soon. They were quite low as they glided smoothly on soapy skin.
“This is fun.”
“Fun should happen on the third date. It’s the standard. Or at least it was,” I said, not really sure what the standard was or even if there was one. He nibbled at my shoulder. “Maybe the second date,” I countered myself, cursing the vibrations that rippled through with each touch. How could any sane wo
