“Easy,” I muttered, catching her waist.
She smiled back at me. “I knew you’d catch me.”
“Always. If you let me…”
I worked the shampoo into her hair, massaging slow circles at her scalp. She sighed, tipping her head against my chest.
“That’s so nice,” she murmured.
“Yeah?”
“Really good.”
It was good for me too. Feeling her melt against me, trusting me to take care of her…it was our dynamic. Even when we were young, I’d always wanted to be the one to look out for her, and when that had been stripped from me, I’d been lost. This, though…I understood. This, I could do without thinking.
I rinsed her hair then repeated with conditioner, combing it through with my fingers and rinsing until the water ran clear.
When I reached for the shampoo to wash my hair, she grabbed it first.
“My turn.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I want to.” Her eyes lifted to mine. “Let me?”
With a heavy boulder lodged in my throat, all I could do was nod.
She poured shampoo into her palm and pressed up on her toes to reach the top of my head. Even with me bending forward, it was an awkward fit, making us both laugh.
“You’re too tall,” she claimed.
“I’m so sorry.” I smirked against her temple.
“You should be. This was supposed to be sexy. You ruined it.”
I rocked my hips, my erection sliding along her stomach. “Still so damn sexy. There’s nothing you could do naked that wouldn’t be.”
Nothing clothed either.
She huffed in exaggerated frustration, then looked at my chest. A slow grin spread across her face as she planted her soapy hands there and scrubbed, deliberately working through the damp curls.
“Zara.”
“I like this.” She gave the hair a tug before returning to rubbing in the soap. “You didn’t have this the last time I saw you shirtless.”
“I was a scrawny teenager.”
“You were cute then.” She looked up at me through wet lashes. “You’re gorgeous now.”
“You like that I’m a hairy beast?”
She laughed. “I like you in any form, but yeah, hairy beast really works for me.”
I couldn’t argue. If she wanted to spend the next ten minutes scrubbing my chest, I’d let her. I reached up to wash my own hair while she was busy cleaning the rest of me.
By the time we were actually clean, we were grinning like idiots, foreheads pressed together under the spray. In all the times I’d fantasized what it would be like to turn our friendship into more, it hadn’t looked like this. Now, I wondered why. We made each other laugh and weren’t afraid to be goofy. This wasus, but more.
Her fingers drifted to my tattoo one more time. Soft. Thoughtful.