Page 50 of Jazz

He reached across me. Turning the dial. The water cooled immediately. The contrast on my burning skin made me gasp. My vision cleared. Just a little, enough to see him.

The shower had soaked through his t-shirt. It clung to him. To the muscles in his chest, sucking in at his waist. Over the bulge of his arms, and I followed the shadows of tattoos, over thick, firm forearms until the ink stopped at his wrists.

“You’re soaked,” I breathed.

“Yeah. You ok?” he asked again, dipping slightly to pull my eyes up to mine.

“I’m naked.”

“Uh huh. Gathered. You’re in a shower. I didn’t look.”

I tried to smile, but it was like I’d almost forgotten how to. My lips pulled, the skin chafed and chapped, feeling like it would rip apart.

“You ok now?”

I nodded, and he let go. My knees crumpled. He darted forward. Catching me. Holding me.

“Maybe not,” I whispered, watching the water cascade over his head, through thick brown hair and soaking down his face.

Reaching towards him, I brushed it off his eyes. His eyebrows were thick. Hazel eyes set behind. Full of something I couldn’t make out. The furrows between them were deep. Years of scowling. Stubble dusted over the cheeks of a beautifully shaped face. Prominent cheekbones. A strong jaw. His nose slightly crooked, broken before, I could tell by the shape. The stubble hid the tiniest of clefts in his chin. I could feel it as I ranmy fingers down his face, feeling every feature like I was blind. Remembering the feel, but now I could see it. That face I’d felt in the dark.

I slid my thumb over his lips. Thick, smooth. Did they ever smile? He exhaled. I felt it against the pad of my thumb, felt the little movement as he parted those lips. And then those lips moved over my thumb, a gentle plucking. Careful. Reserved. I closed my eyes for a second. Feeling, not seeing. His arm slid back around my waist, fingers closing round my wrist. Pulling my hand away.

When I opened my eyes again, he was there. Right in front of my face. Those hazel eyes deep. Smouldering. Burning with an intensity I didn’t think I’d seen before. He focused on my face. Not my body. His gaze searched mine for an answer to a question I didn’t think he’d asked.

Even in the steam from the shower, I could smell that warm, spicy heat on his skin, infusing into the air like a scented candle. A Chase scented candle.

I moved my hand up to his face again. The fingers holding my other wrist tightened as if he was wary about what I’d do. A chunk of thick hair had fallen over his forehead, spilling water down his face. I pushed it back, tracing my fingers over the ridge of his eyebrow, following the flow of water over his skin. His stubble scratched at my fingertips; his teeth raked over his lips. He was holding back. Straining to stay in control.

I didn’t want control. I’d lost that days ago. But I wanted this. Whatever this was in the moment. I needed to feel something. Something other than the pain in my back, and the fear in my gut. I needed a focus. A distraction.

Chase.

I cupped the back of his head, pushing my face to his, my lips lingering, not moving. Just a tease. A test of the water.

And that fucking water hit boiling point really fucking quickly.

His arm tightened round my waist. His mouth meeting mine. Hot lips grabbed for me. Rough. Fast. He took my breath. His tongue darted out, and I opened my lips for him. Welcoming. Forcing me to open my mouth just a little further, sinking into his body just a bit more. He let go of the wrist he held, his fingers pushing into my wet hair, grabbing a handful and holding me there. If I’d wanted to escape, if I’d wanted to change my mind, the opportunity was gone. His mouth moved over mine like he was starved. His tongue diving, probing, meeting mine and coming back for more. The duel was harder this time. Faster. And the shower hammered down on top of us.

Chase pushed me backwards, my back glancing off the wet tile behind me. My flesh burned, heat surging, but not just in my back now. In my stomach, between my legs, in my chest. I was going to self-combust at any minute, and no amount of water from this shower would put that fire out.

I gasped, half for air, half involuntarily. Chase paused, pulling his tongue from my mouth, sliding his lips down my chin, nipping and sucking. The hand in my hair tightened, pulling my neck backwards, providing access for his mouth, his lips sinking lowering, tracing the vein in my neck and then stilling over the spot my pulse was the strongest. He waited a moment, his tongue flicking out, teasing over the heightening thump of my heart. I waited. Impatiently. Fuck. Still, he didn’t move, breathing over the spot, the heat from his breath and the thumping beat in my neck echoing between my legs.

Against my bare flesh, I felt the roughness of his jeans. The button nudged just over the top of my pubic bone, my skin tingling and my insides flaring. I think I gasped, because something joined the hiss from the water spilling from the showerhead. His mouth closed on that spot on my neck where my heart thundered. A soft pluck. A flick of his tongue. And my knees wobbled when his teeth grazed that same spot.

“Chase,” I whispered, water falling over my face. “Take these off.” I pulled at the wet t-shirt clinging to his skin.

Chase stepped back, cool air rushing into the space he’d created between us. He grabbed at the t-shirt that was by now almost translucent and peeled it off over his head. His stomach tensed, a ripple of muscles straining underneath, dark hair smattered across his belly, thicker on his chest, but it didn’t hide the ripple of skin stretching over muscle. He was fit. Strong. Manly. The tattoos only covered his arms, pictures within pictures. Bikes. Women. Knives. Skulls and bones and, on his left arm, rats. Their eyes glowed red, angry. Not the same as what was on my back, but the mark was there. His club affiliation.

He paused, his hands at the button of his jeans.

“Jazz?”

“I’m just looking at you, Chase.” I answered, the breathy light tone not sounding like me at all.

“You need more time to look?” There was a half-smile in his voice, and I glanced up at him.

When he smiled, his face changed, the hazel lighting, smile lines stretching from the corner of his eyes, those thick lips. I wobbled again, slipping slightly on the wet shower tray. Above me, the water temperature changed. A distinct coolness.