Breed Me A God
My hands slipped more than once, and every time they did, he’d tilt his head slightly, watching me like I was the clumsy one.
When I finally stood and reached for a towel, he rose out of the water in one smooth motion.
And Jesus Christ he was tall. Taller than me, dripping wet, water sliding down over his chest, his arms. Not a man-child, not really. Not when his body screamed power in every line.
I shoved the towel at him. “Here. Dry off. You can handle that much, right?”
For once, he listened. He wrapped it around his waist, rubbing at his hair in slow, awkward strokes. Like a kid mimicking something he’d seen but never learned.
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