Page 58 of Second Chance Fate (Hope Falls: Brewed Awakenings #5)

Taylor set her phone on the bathroom counter, and keeping one foot planted on the black and white checkered flooring, she leaned into the shower to turn the knob to the H.

As she waited for the water to warm up, she sat on the bench beside the clothes basket.

She was tired. The last two days had taken a lot out of her, not so much physically, but emotionally and mentally.

The talk with Owen and then going to see Caleb’s parents, which was sort of like being initiated into the family, had been huge emotional hurdles, which, thankfully, she’d managed to clear both without any problems. George and Annie could not have been more welcoming, and she still could not get over how much Annie resembled her Imaginary Mom, not only in appearance but also in the nickname she’d given Taylor.

“Sweet Pea” was not as common as, say, “sweetie” or “honey.” It was definitely on the unique side.

She’d never been a huge believer in fate; why would she when her life hadn’t exactly been fate-worthy.

But lately her mind was beginning to change on the subject.

It started months ago, when Casper came back to her after Leah found him thirty miles from Martin’s house, and then it had snowballed from there.

The nickname was just one piece of the fate puzzle.

There was also her and Caleb getting married on the twelve-year anniversary of the day they met.

He told her that nugget of destiny right after they signed the paperwork, and she got goosebumps.

And then there was Minnie, who had several pieces of fate woven into the fabric of her story.

The day that Caleb found her on the side of the road was the same day that Taylor left Martin, and what were the chances that she’d have the same chronic conditions as Owen?

Maybe this all was fate. Maybe for once everything in her life was actually going to work out for the best. Maybe she didn’t have to wait for the other shoe to drop.

She stood, leaned forward, and tested the water, making sure it was the perfect temperature before slipping out of her robe, the terrycloth slid off her shoulders and pooled at her feet.

When she looked at herself in the mirror, she really looked at her naked body.

It had been so long since she’d viewed herself through a sexual lens.

Martin had made her feel so self-conscious, or at least added to how she already felt.

He constantly pointed out her many insecurities.

Her legs were too short. Her thighs were flabby.

Her hips were too wide after she gave birth.

Her breasts sagged after breastfeeding. He’d tried to insist on her having a “mommy makeover” when Owen was two, but she refused because she was scared to go under the knife in case anything happened to her.

She wasn’t going to risk dying and leaving her very ill son for the sake of vanity.

Instead, she lived for years with him chipping away at her self-esteem. She hated being naked in front of him and went to great lengths to avoid it. After a while, she started to hate being naked, even alone.

But being with Caleb, only the one night, had given her a new appreciation for her body. It wasn’t that she thought she looked any better. This wasn’t about an inflated sense of appearance. It was about the way her body felt when she was with him. Pleasure. Sensuality. Gratification. Fulfillment.

Even thinking about their time together now had her flushing with arousal and tingling.

Her hand slid down her belly, and she closed her eyes as her fingers slid between her legs.

The pad of her middle finger caressed her already sensitive nub and she flicked it, causing a thrumming sensation of pleasure to pool in her core when there was a soft knock on the door.

She gasped, startled by the intrusion during her private moment, then quickly grabbed the towel off the counter.

Caleb was still at the church dealing with the break-in when she’d decided to take a shower, but he must have gotten home since Owen was over at Jonah’s.

She opened the door and found herself staring at a very broad, very muscular chest. Her gaze lifted past Caleb’s strong neck, square jaw covered in stubble that had scraped against her inner thigh, up to his eyes.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his eyes filled with concern. “My mom said you were tired.”

“Oh, yeah.” She lifted her hand and brushed a piece of hair behind her ear, feeling a little self-conscious.

She wasn’t used to people being worried about her or discussing her when she wasn’t around.

“I’m fine. I just yawned, and she asked what was wrong, and I said I was a little tired, so she insisted I come home and rest. She and your dad dropped Owen off at Jonah’s for me so I didn’t have to drive even though I told her I was fine and it was only a couple blocks away. ”

He nodded, and she watched as he exhaled and his shoulders dropped as if he was visibly relieved. Had he actually been that concerned about her being tired? Surely not.

“Was everything okay at the church? Well, not okay, but…”

“Yeah, probably just kids. There was a broken window and a few drawers that were tossed on the ground, but it doesn’t look like anything was stolen.”

“Oh, good.” She nodded and tightened the knot in the center of her towel.

“In or out?” he asked, his voice suddenly dropping an octave.

Her head tilted to the side. “What?”

“Shower?” he rasped.

“Oh, I was just about to get in.”

He took a step forward, crossing the threshold to the bathroom, causing her to take a step back.

“What are you doing?” she asked, despite having a pretty good idea as her heart thumped so hard and fast she was surprised it didn’t cause her towel to slip right off.

“You just said you were tired.” The door clicked softly as he pushed it shut and twisted the lock—an unmistakable signal that they were alone and that nothing outside this room could intrude. “I can’t, in good conscience, let you take a shower without supervision.”

“In good conscience?” she repeated as her breaths grew more and more shallow.

“Absolutely.” He grinned the bad boy grin that promised a lot more than supervision. “It’s my husbandly duty.”

At the mention of his husbandly duty, her sex clenched eagerly.

She felt her pulse thrum in her throat as he tugged his shirt over his head, revealing a body that looked to be sculpted by manual labor and clean living.

Muted golden light spilled from the sconce above the mirror, highlighting the curves and contours of his toned physique, casting shadows along the ripples in his chest and abs.

He held her gaze, exuding masculinity, strength, and the sort of dominance that had her wanting to submit.

His jeans followed, pooling at his ankles before being swept aside.

His crooked smile held no trace of hesitation as he reached out and gently undid the knot holding her towel in place.

The terrycloth dropped to the tile floor with a soft shush, leaving her exposed and suddenly vulnerable under his gaze.

His eyes traveled down her body—he looked at her as though she were both familiar and entirely new to him in a way that had her feeling both safe and illicit.

His hands were warm and calloused but gentle as they came to rest on her hips, thumbs brushing lightly along the ridges of her pelvis.

She expected him to seize control—to take her in some bold, domineering way like a caveman, primal and animalistic—but instead he stilled, searching her eyes for any flicker of doubt. He wasn’t going to find any, not even a hint.

The glass mirror had already begun to fog up, and the condensation started to bead on every surface as he guided them into the shower.

The water beckoned—hot enough to sting at first touch but soothing once acclimated.

As they stepped beneath the spray together, droplets made rivers down their bodies and puddled at their feet.

Steam billowed around them, softening the edges of everything—except sensation.

Caleb cupped her face and pressed their foreheads together, his breath hot and uneven against her cheek.

The water rushed over their bodies, but it was nothing compared to the flood of adrenaline and need lighting up every nerve ending.

She felt herself tremble—not from a chill, not from fear, but from anticipation that gathered tight between her legs and unfurled through her core.

Taylor watched as Caleb lathered soap between his large, capable hands and then went to work in slow, purposeful caresses, massaging the suds along her arms and shoulders, down her back, and over her hips and backside, before he shifted so he was standing behind her.

He then snaked his hands around to her belly and up her torso, stopping just below the crescent of her under-boob.

He pulled her to him; her shoulder blades pressed to his chest and his erection nestled against her lower back as she leaned into his body.

Her chin dipped as she watched him cup her breasts in his palms and then tease the puckered peaks of her nipples, pinching and rolling them between his thumbs and forefingers.

His chest vibrated with a deep moan, and she felt his cock swell and flex against her backside.

As much as she loved that Caleb took his time with her, that he seduced her with sensual foreplay, she wanted more than tenderness tonight. A wild urgency took her over, and she pulled away from him and then turned to face him.