Page 76 of The Fake Husband Deal

Was it weird that I wanted to plug my butt so I could keep his release inside me for the rest of the day?

Yeah, it was weird and gross.

He turned the faucet for the hot water in the shower, and we stepped inside.

“Ooh, I get aftercare too. Nice.”

I wanted to tell myself to shut up, but I didn’t know what to do now that it was all over. A shiver ran through me, and not a nice one.

Was this a one-off? Now that we’d both relieved of all the pent-up sexual energy that had bubbled between us, would he suggest we go back to not having sex?

“You’re thinking way too hard about something, Noah. Don’t.”

He tempered the hot water with cold and pushed us under the spray.

“Noah Spencer doesn’t think. He does,” I joked.

“Don’t do that to yourself.” He grabbed the small bottle of hotel shampoo and drizzled it into his hand, lathering it before applying it to my hair.

I closed my eyes as he massaged my scalp. If I hadn’t just had the most intense orgasm of my entire life, my dick would have rallied up for more.

“Can you do me a favor?” Lior asked.

“What?”

“Can you use me?”

I looked up at him. His eyes were on my head where his hands worked their magic. He massaged my scalp, my neck, and my shoulders.

Something bubbled inside me, getting stuck in my throat.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“I’m here for you, Noah. All the things you’re feeling inside? You can let them out. I’ll catch them for you.”

Damn the man. Now that permission had been granted, a well opened and my eyes flooded with tears. I held on to him as he let me sob all over his chest.

I couldn’t even bring myself to joke about his sexy salt-and-pepper chest hair, his tight abs, or theVthat led to the most beautiful dick I’d ever seen, even soft.

By the time my crying subsided, he was wrapping me in a fluffy towel. Suddenly, I felt exhausted.

He took me over to the bed and lifted the covers.

“Sit up. Let me grab you some food, and then we can take a nap.”

I nodded.

Lior opened a thermos and poured fresh coffee into two mugs. He put one on my bedside table and one on his side. Then, he filled a tray with a few pastries and some fruit.

When he came back to the bed, he sat with his back against the headboard and positioned me between his legs with my back to his chest.

“I don’t know what to say right now.”

“You don’t need to say anything. Let me just look after you.”

I so desperately wanted to let him do that, but I was also afraid I would become reliant on it and terrified of what I was about to ask of him.

“I need to tell you something I’ve never told anyone,” I said.