UNDER THE SHOWER

Less than an hour later, we are perched in the living room, enjoying the perfectly made pancakes. They say there is nothing like perfection, but I think this guy is perfection. He is just perfect in everything I have witnessed so far, except in the field of love. He seems to have misfortune following him in matters of the heart. The first woman was killed, and the second one just left him in the middle of their wedding preparations. What will the third one do to him? What will happen to her? Leave him hanging or reject him at the altar? I hope not. I hope he will be lucky this time around. All this beauty deserves nothing but happiness.

"So, how is the hotel doing?" I ask, realizing I had not touched on that subject despite being the reason for that misfortune. I owe this guy more than I will be able to repay him.

"Everything is working just fine. I had to explain to my parents the reason behind the bombing." He says.

"And?" I ask eagerly. Remembering the conversation with his mother, I doubt I am off the hook of their wrath. They must be blaming me, especially if they know the truth. And I take the blame. I shouldn’t have gone to their hotel.

"They understood. Nothing to worry about," he says.

Really, now? Doesn’t that sound too cliche? "Are you sure? They are not mad at me. They did not tell you to stay away from me." I ask, remembering his mother's words that evening. She sounded damn serious about her warning.

"There you go again. Why would they do that? You were just a victim of circumstances, and my parents perfectly understand that." He affirms.

"Okay. I am just making sure, okay? Just so I know what to expect when I meet them again—if ever I will meet them again." I say. I actually do not buy that lie. His mother must be cursing me day and night.

"You will. My mother asked me to bring you over for dinner one of these days."

Shoot! There it is. I knew it! I doubt it's dinner she is looking forward to. It is me she wants, so she can remind me of her warning and ask me to stay away from her son. She is probably preparing a slaughterhouse for me. "So, when do you want that to be?"

"Huh? What?" I snap at Deep.

"When should we set the dinner with my parents?" He asks.

Aah, that! It is never happening. I would be the happiest person if this happened under different circumstances, but I cannot drag myself into a lion’s cage knowingly. So, I am sorry, Deep. "Ah, I will think about it. I will tell you when I am ready." I lie, because deep inside I have no intention of going to that dinner. There is actually nothing for me to think about here. Too bad, I can't reveal the reason to Deep, and I can't just tell him that I don't want to have dinner with his parents. Before I get an upset stomach from thinking too much about this issue, I think it's best we go to bed. We are done eating anyway, and I don’t want him to pressure me on this.

“Okay. I will wait for you to decide. It should be soon, though. You need a lot of trust after everything you have been through. And I am here for everything you may need.” He says.

At least the topic has changed. And it hits me so warmly to know that he is here for me. "Okay," I say.

"So, no man has come to claim you back yet?"

Huh? "What?"

"Back in Mombasa, you told me that you were waiting to see if someone would come to claim you as his girlfriend. So, what is the progress?" He asks. What does it matter to him?

"Mmh, none. The truth is, there are none. He can't be the only thing I haven't remembered, right?" I say.

"I suppose so. That's good." He says.

Good? In what way, huh? "Good? What's good about the fact that I have no boyfriend?" I ask.

"I'll keep the reasons to myself. But someday, you will know." He says.

"You are becoming a weirdo; do you know that?" I state. He indeed is.

"You will understand why soon." He says it calmly. Nonchallantly. But it all hit so deep. What are his reasons? I would love to know them, but he does not look like he is going to badge me, no matter how much I push him.

"I think you need some sleep, and unfortunately, that is where the biggest problem lies." I say, standing up, and he does the same.

"Why?" he implores.

"We only have three bedrooms in this house. My parents' bedroom is a no-go zone, and so is Grace’s. I can't let you sleep here on the couch. It's too cold. So that leaves us with just one option." I am afraid to state that option. Its giving off threatening sparks just by thinking of him and me on the same bed and under the sheets together. I can’t handle that. I doubt I can.

"To share your bed?" He finishes it for me, and I nod my head. "I don't see any problem in that." He shrugs his shoulders. "I will be a good boy, I promise. Besides, didn't you say that you can handle even the irresistible? Or were you not sure?"

The nerve! Good boy, my left foot, Mr. Azzua! With this arrogant smirk on your face, who are you fooling? Your mind must be imagining a thousand naughty things right now. Are you tempting me?

My mind is telling me to go to sleep in Grace’s room to avoid falling into the trap of this sin and leave mine to this tempting jerk, but my crazy self says, "No problem at all, Mr. Azzua. I trust myself."God, help me do this! Give me the courage to bear the temptations of this night.

"Shall we, then?" He says, and like a zombie, I follow the temptation to my bedroom.

I know all about digging one's grave, but trust me, this isn't it. As long as he does not touch me, I will have a very peaceful night with this guy beside me and wake up untouched tomorrow.

Darn! But why am I so afraid? Why do I feel the resonance of my own words around me? He isn't a rapist that I should be afraid of. Come on, dear self!

I walk into my closet and pull out a towel and my pajamas while he is enjoying the comfort of my simple bed, or is he pretending to enjoy it? This is just torture compared to the expensive king-size one in his house. But it's not that bad anyway. If he managed to drive through those uneven, muddy roads and also cook pancakes, I am sure he could manage the bed too.

"I'm going to take a shower." I say to him, and he tilts his head to look at me. Isn't he too serious for someone who was being a sweet, annoying jerk downstairs a while ago? Or am I being paranoid?

"Take your time."

Take my time. Shouldn't he be like, Be quick; I want to shower too? Or crack a joke like, Do you want me to join you? Oh, no! Not that one. Shouldn't he be asking for a TV remote to keep himself busy with one of those billionaire documentaries?

Sha! Things are not balancing here.

I turn on my feet and head to my bathroom before I start a conversation that I will end up losing in the end. He is becoming a weirdo, for sure. A sweet, annoying weirdo. I empty my bladder before getting in the shower. The feeling of the warm water caressing my bare skin made me close my eyes to that sweet, soothing feeling.

I love showers; God knows how much. The feeling today is different, perhaps because I missed this shower so much. The feeling is deep, and it's sweet. It's so refreshing; this is one of the best showers I have ever had. I must have missed this house so much. I stand still, letting the water do its magic.

The feeling is so sweet, but why do I feel like... no. I must be having one of those wild imaginations. I try to put my mind together and concentrate on the shower, but that feeling... that touch. The sparks. Ooh, my! It is so familiar. Am I hallucinating having a shower with him? I think him being just outside this door and lying on my bed is just not so good for my naughty brain.

But if this is how I am behaving under the shower, just imagining him being here with me, how am I going to spend the whole night with him on the same bed? I shake my head to clear those evil thoughts away, but I feel his fingers leaving trails down my neck and going down my back. I shiver. I feel a kiss on the back of my neck that shutters everything in me.

Those lips, those moist lips—I know them. This feels so real. I tense up at another kiss on the side of my neck. Am I still hallucinating? I peel my eyes slowly, struggling to stand firm because I am shaking.

Through the reflection of the mirror before me, I see those soft hairs of his. His eyes are closed as he plants another kiss on my shoulder, his hands resting on my belly. "Deep?" I whisper, and his lustful, dark brown eyes shoot at me. That made me really tremble. He is mere? My irresistible temptation is right here with me under the shower. I know he felt me tremble, and he tightened his arms around me, like he would never let me go. He is really here. "Deep?"

"Gia." He responds.

It's really him! I'm not hallucinating! I turn around in his arms, and in a minute, the sweet sin is standing right in front of me, naked, with water running through us both. This sight of him under the shower is more dangerously tempting. He is smoking hot. Tempting. Seducting. He is reeking to the high heavens with lust.

"Can you still handle it?" I watch as his lips curve to every single word. The water is making his lips appear more moist and pink. So this is it? He is going to use my own words against me. "If you can't, I can just leave." He says this, caressing my lower lip with his thumb.

He sure is a devil! After making me feel this way, he is going to leave? My body is ablaze, craving what he is offering. He knew what he came here for. He planned this. I am needy, needy of him. I need this beautiful sin.

"Isn't it too late to leave now, Mr. Moore?" I say. I sound like a beggar right now, but I don't care anymore. This has gone far too deep to get out of. It's so deep. Everything in me is calling for him. For his sweet touch. For his kisses. For everything he is offering, I am willing to lay down my all for him.

"It's your word that counts, Gia. Just say what you want, and I won't oppose." His whisper is a deep tremor, rich with lust.

I rest my forehead on his, my lips shaking with desire, my whole body trembling, and my eyes pleading with him to tend to my needs. I look deep into his two lustful orbs. "I can handle it. Just don't leave me like this, Deep."