Sacha eyed the suds running down his fit body. If they were true long-term lovers, it would’ve been so easy to grab the oil from the shelf over the sink, lube himself, and push Jonah against the tiled wall, but even thinking about it felt too intimate.
Too intimate for what? You already kissed him and slept in his bed—
Sacha drowned his clamouring subconscious by turning his face into the hot spray. Jonah’s shower was powerful and it pummelled his senses with heat and noise. He could almost pretend he was alone, then soft fingertips brushed his neck and his scalp, and the scent of Jonah’s shampoo returned.
He’s washing my hair.
Sacha swayed on his feet.
Chuckling, Jonah steadied him. “Easy now. I’ve got you.”
They were simple words. Sacha liked them. His body strained to lean back against Jonah, to absorb his sturdy warmth, but his brain said no, as if the sensation of Jonah’s fingers carding through his hair was already too much.
Too much for what?
Sacha had forgotten the answer.
Jonah rinsed Sacha’s hair, then rubbed body wash with the same scent over his skin. His cock was half hard and pressed against Sacha’s thigh, but Sacha didn’t react. Couldn’t, or they’d be in the shower all day.
So what? You have nowhere to be.
That wasn’t entirely true. He’d left his laptop at the office, and he had a full day of coding to fit in before Monday morning rolled around—coding he’d planned to be halfway through already. He had no time to bang Jonah in the shower. He had no time to spin and drop to his knees. He had no time to kiss Jonah again, butgod,he wanted to.
He wanted it more than anything.
Jonah shut the shower off. He slid his hands over Sacha’s hips and turned him around. His lips were pink and full, and he bit down on the bottom one, mauling it with his straight white teeth.
Sacha fixated on it, leaning in, then the obnoxious blast of a phone ringing made Jonah jump a mile, and the moment was gone.
“That’s my mother. Damn it. Hang on.”
He stepped out of the shower and dashed, naked, from the bathroom. Shaking his head to clear it, Sacha stepped out too, and opened the vanity, searching for a spare toothbrush—Jonah seemed like a man who’d have one or twenty.
Or three, as it turned out.
Sacha claimed one and unwrapped it, tucking the box in the bin under the sink. He dried his hair while he brushed his teeth, and tried not to eavesdrop on the conversation filtering out of the bedroom.
It went well until he heard his own name, then curiosity got the better of him.
Leave it. You have no reason to barge in there and invade his life.
But Sacha had never listened to anyone, least of all himself.
He finished up at the sink, wrapped a towel around his waist, and padded silently to the bedroom.
Jonah was on the bed, dressed in charcoal drawstring pyjama bottoms that made his hair gleam. He was holding his phone up and gesticulating to whoever he was speaking too—his mother, presumably, a video call.
Sacha glanced around for his clothes, but he’d left them in the bathroom the night before.
Jonah got up and opened a drawer. Inside were more pyjama bottoms. He pulled out a black pair and passed them to Sacha with a wink.
“Who are you winking at?” Eleanor’s voice came immediately. “Is it Sacha?”
Jonah’s cheeks flushed. “Ma, stop it. You don’t get to interrogate everyone who’s ever in my home.”
“I don’t want to interrogate him. I want to see him. You’ve barely mentioned him since the ball. It’s as though he doesn’t exist, and it’s rude, Jonah. We liked Sacha a lot when we met him. Why would you keep him from us?”
Jonah rolled his eyes and moved back to the bed, giving Sacha space to drop his towel and pull the pyjama bottoms up his legs. They fit perfectly and the symmetry with the loop Sacha’s brain was on left him reeling.