Page 110 of Revenge Puck

“Kind of?” I tease, hands roaming lazily over her back.

“Yes, kind of,” Juliette teases back. “You know, you’re not at all what I was expecting—the more I get to know you, the more I like you.”

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

“Good thing,” she says quickly. “I thought you’d be more of a…I don’t know. More of a jackass.”

I laugh. “A player?”Like your brother? Who can’t keep his dick to himself?

She rolls her eyes. “You know what I mean.”

“You’re the one who said you thought I was going to be more of a jackass,” I remind her, smiling as the water runs over my hands. “But yeah. I get that a lot. People think they know me before they actually do.”

She studies my face, tipping it upward. “I like being wrong sometimes.”

I reach around her, grasping for a bottle of body wash on the recessed shelf, flip it open and squeeze a generous amount into my palm.

“You’re about to like this even more.”

She watches intently as I work the soap between my hands, building a thick lather before sliding them onto her shoulders. I spread the foam over her skin, thumbs kneading gently at the tension gathered there.

Her head tips back slightly.

“Mm,” she hums. “That feels so good.”

I lean down, kissing the nape of her neck, adding to her pleasure.

“Full service.”

I smooth my hands down her arms, over her sides, along the curve of her waist. Over her stomach. Up her sternum.

Exploring.

“You don’t seem like someone who lets people see this side of you,” she says quietly into the steam.

“What side?”

“The gentle side.”

Yeah well, that’s what happens when you’re fucked over by teammates and women—not that I’m dwelling on it.

My hands slide around to her front, lathering over her bellybutton. Juliette inhales softly when my palms glide to her tits, her nipples covered in soapy bubbles that I want to lick off like cream.

“Want to know something?” I ask. “I like that you’re shy.”

She tilts her head. “I’m not shy.”

Oh, but she is.

Adorably, beautifully so.

“I’m not shy. I’m cautious.”

“Maybe,” I concede. “But you’re also brave.”

Her hands rest against my chest, fingertips tracing lazy lines through the water. “You think I’m brave?”

“I think,” I say slowly, choosing my words, “that you don’t do things halfway. If you’re here, it’s because you trust me.”