“Sure, yeah—”
Scratch that. Judging by the uncertainty in his voice, he was totally not in command yet. Should she have been proud that she’d ruffled his composure? And why? Surely he’d seen all the same feminine bells and whistles she had more perfectly elsewhere.
“The knob in the middle needs to be pulled out. Turn the one on the left to hot. Then, there’s that lever, see it?”
She saw a shiny lever. “Affirmative, Captain.”
Did she hear him stifle a chuckle? Good. Maybe he’d lighten up and relax. This stiff, surprised Toby seemed too foreign for her liking, and besides, she might not have been a supermodel, but it wasn’t the end of the world. A woman’s body was just another woman’s body, right? She rolled out her shoulders. Nothing to worry about.
“Okay, if you leave that down, the wall showerhead comes on. But if you pull it up, it comes from the rainforest showerhead.”
Rainforest showerhead? Stone-tiled shower systems? Luccheses? Stetsons? Toby Dixon might have lived a lot of his life in the dirt and sun, but he was a pampered prince when it came to personal taste. The shower seemed—now that she was looking—brand new. Chances were he’d had it renovated. His parents had looked a lot more down to earth than the types who’d have something as frivolous as a rainforest shower system.
“Here goes.” She pulled out the knob and turned the left handle to hot. “Sweet Jesus,” she muttered, flattening against the chilly stone wall as the cold water shot out of the head and gradually grew warm.
A pull of the lever caused a lull in the water as pipes were rerouted, and then the most luxurious shower of water cascaded down from the ceiling.
Oh my God, heaven. She tipped back her head, letting the beating warm water sluice off her shoulders and breasts. This was magical. I take back what I just said about this being frivolous. It put her cheap showerhead that she often had to soak in Lime-A-Way to shame. She rolled her head, stretching her neck, and slid her palms over her face and hair as the water showered down.
“So, eh, you good now?” he asked, bringing her back to the moment.
She stifled a laugh at her own folly. She’d completely spaced that he stood just around the wall and slicked back her hair again to wring the heavy water from it, running her hands down her hips and stomach as the therapeutic rain beat down.
“Good. Great. Golden. Thanks.” She sighed. “Dang, Toby Dixon, your shower is orgasmic.”
She smirked to herself. She was trying to get a rise out of him now. Had he just stifled a groan?
“Okay. Good. I’ll, eh, be downstairs!” he called, and the thud of a door told her he’d bolted from the room.