“What are you doing?” I mumbled when I felt him tying my hair up.
“I don’t want to get it wet,” he answered.
A few seconds later, the sound of a bottle squirting reached my ears, and I felt the cold shock of the shower gel against my back. I squealed and squirmed.
George laughed, his chest vibrating, and rubbed his hands over my back. It warmed instantly, and I smiled as he washed my body. Every part of me was washed, even my submerged legs. He grabbed a sponge and trickled the water over me, washing the soap from my body, the whole time without me moving.
The man is magical. And really quite wonderful.
“Come on, Bambi,” he said softly, easing me back.
I slid from him, letting him get out, an
