Book IV: Avi Dragon

Shower Thoughts

Angel leapt up, yanked the curtain closed, and popped the plug. She didn't wait for the water to drain. She set the spray to the hottest she could comfortably stand, and scrubbed everything she didn't want him to touch. Well, if she were honest, she did want him to. The problem was, she was painfully shy around him. They'd only known each other a few days; or at least she'd only known him that long. Not even two weeks, and they would share a bed tonight.
   She'd been too tired to notice when they arrived, but there was definitely only one bed in this room. And why would he ask for two? We're married, after all... Nope, still not used to that.
   She reached for the shampoo, only to find none. Shards! She tried to project into the room, still not sure about volume with telepathy. :Hey, can you bring the shampoo and conditioner when she's down for her nap?:
   The curtain opened, and the bottles came through. She yelped with surprise, torn between thanking and scolding him. She did neither. She took them and turned back toward the water. She set the conditioner on the edge of the tub, opened the shampoo.
   "Can you close the curtain? There's a draft," she asked, trying not to sound sour.
   "Sure." He calmly closed the curtain behind himself.
   Her back shot ramrod straight, shampoo sitting in a puddle on top of her head, hands frozen halfway between her hair and waist. It was nearly a classic startle reflex.
   It wasn't that she'd never shared a shower with a man. She'd done so hundreds of times, but there had been long acquaintance with the men in the past; not that there had been many. It was practical, in that it saved water. Since she'd never been affluent, saving money was always important.
   There was no such excuse for this. Even if he'd been poor or middle class, the hotel paid for the water bill.
   She was still standing there, shampoo slowly sliding down her hair, when he started to work it in for her. Her hands clenched at her waist. She swallowed several times, to try to regain some modicum of composure. She tried breathing exercises, but they could only do so much.
   "You know, it's funny. You used to wash my hair for me all the time, but when I return the favor--" he leaned closer, "when you actually need it, you get all tense."
   Angel rolled her shoulders. It wasn't really a shrug. It was more like she was trying to release the tension. "Maybe if I remembered that, it wouldn't be so... awkward."
   He gave her more space, and a few moments of silence. "Is that why you've been so... uneasy since we got back?" He massaged her scalp, from her temples to the base of her skull.
   "Mm hmm," she rumbled. She hadn't noticed the headache until it began to ebb under his skillful hands. With her head tilted back, the sound was husky, unintentionally sensual.
   Avi had to clear his throat before he could speak. "There you go." He nudged her away, into the water, to rinse her hair. He helped with that, as well, but from a safer distance. His intentions were honorable. She'd just gotten out of the hospital. A simple shopping trip wiped her out, and there'd been adhesive everywhere from the various IV sites and sensors. He thought she could use a hand in the shower. Whose hands could be better than her husband's? Yep, still getting used to that...
   When the shampoo was washed clean, she stepped back to apply the conditioner. He hadn't moved at all, so she had room to maneuver. He watched to make sure she wasn't overtired, but the conditioner went in without trouble.
   She turned around, arms crossed a little too casually over her chest. "If you'll hand me your soap, I can do your back while the conditioner sits."
   "Oh. I didn't bring mine. I didn't think... I was just helping you."
   Angel scoffed. "Hand me my soap. The least I can do is wash your back. I know darned well how hard it is to get everything on your own." She held out one hand, still covering her nipples with her arms.
   "You don't have to--"
   "Yes, I do. What have I said about feeling useful? Besides, I'm just returning the favor. And you said the ichor got on the back of your shirt. Gimme." The extended hand flapped imperiously at him.
   A slow smile stretched across his face and lit his eyes. A real scrapper, this one. He bent to retrieve the soap, knowing full well she'd get a look at his backside, if she wanted. He dropped the bar in her hand and turned around.
   Angel held the soap in one hand, alternating swipes with the bar, and firm strokes with her small hand. She never bothered with a washcloth. It wasted soap and spread germs, in her opinion. The benefit was getting hands-on knowledge of one's skin--or one's partner's skin. She set the bar down when he was sufficiently soaped, and kneaded the ropy muscles of his lean back. She'd dated a guy or two who had back problems, so she knew acupressure fairly well.
   It was uncanny, having her work the kinks out of his back the way she'd done as a dragon. There were no talons to be careful of, yet she still used the pads of her fingers to apply pressure.
   There was one major difference between those times, and this one. When she'd finished with his back, he made to turn around, but she held him in place. He looked over his shoulder, confused.
   "I wasn't done yet," she said with grim determination. There was also a twinkle in her eye that he didn't understand, until soapy hands dipped below his waist. Angel had never ventured south of his hipbones in the past!
   She was thorough, almost clinical. He'd seen her wash their daughter's backside the same way, not fifteen minutes ago.
   Except she didn't lightly slap the baby's cheeks when she was done.
   He spun around, but her head was already tilted back in the spray, rinsing her hair. He might've left it there, but there was a decidedly lavender light peeking through her lashes.