Rachel Haimowitz & Cat Grant - [Power Play 1] by Power Play Resistance Page A

spilling
    through his fingers. It actually felt kinda nice. And he supposed it
    didn’t look so bad, either. At least it’d be easy to take care of.
    He debated asking Jonathan if he’d shaved his initials into the back
    of his head, but decided it wouldn’t be worth an eighth demerit.
    “Time for a shower,” Jonathan said, pul ing the shower curtain
    back to reveal a jetted soaking tub big enough for two and a pair
    of waterfall shower heads. Looked heavenly, like something from a
    five-star hotel.Jonathan turned on the water, waited for it to start
    steaming, then began unbuttoning his shirt. “Go on, get in,” he said.
    “I’ll join you momentarily.”
    Bran had showered before he’d come over, but now that he had
    hair clippings down his back—not to mention his ass-crack—another
    one sounded like a good idea. Besides, no need to ask him twice to
    enjoy that shower. He climbed in, moaning softly as warm spray
    poured down his skin. He stood there basking in it for a few seconds
    before Jonathan stepped in behind him and closed the curtain.
    Jonathan’s arms encircled his waist as he pressed up behind Bran,
    brushed a kiss to his shoulder blade. Bran tensed; it was impossible to
    miss that erection pressing up against the back of his thigh. Jonathan
    wasn’t gonna fuck him in the shower , was he? It’d been too rough for
    Bran’s tastes in that nice soft bed, and at least they’d used lubethen.
    “Shhh, relax,” Jonathan whispered. “I’m not going to fuck you
    here,” and oh God, was he psychic now, too? “At least,” he added with
    gentle humor, “not tonight.”
    Bran reached for a nearby bar of soap, just for something to do
    with his hands, but Jonathan took it from him and said, “Let me.”
    What the hell?Didn’t Jonathan think he was capable of washing
    himself? Still, Jonathan’s soapy hands glided like silk over his skin, and
    damn if it wasn’t nice. Better than nice, even, when strong fingers dug
    into the tension at his shoulders, his neck, the small of his back. He
    propped his palms on the shower wall and let his head hang between
    them, closed his eyes and just enjoyedhimself. Easy enough to do if
    he pretended this was two weeks back, before the contract, before
    the talk, when they were just two guys hooking up, having some fun.
    Jonathan leaned in, rested his chin on Bran’s shoulder and
    whispered, “No disappearing on me, Brandon.”
    Fuck. Was he supposed to reply to that? It wasn’t a question
    exactly, but . . . He took a chance and said, “I’m not, Jonathan.”
    Jonathan slid a soapy finger down the crack of his ass and said,
    “Good,” so he supposed he’d done right. “Turn around.”
    Suddenly Bran realized things were perking up south of his
    equator. Great. As if the smug bastard weren’t smug enough.
    And of course Jonathan went right for it the second Bran turned
    around.
    “Well,” Jonathan said to Bran’s tight-lipped refusal to moan at
    that fantastic fucking touch, “it does need washing too, you know.”
    But the slow, steady pump he gave felt nothing like washing, nor did
    the stroke after, nor the stroke after that. Bran stumbled back a step
    on the fourth stroke—with an added twist and squeeze around the
    crown this time—and leaned against the shower wall lest his knees
    go. The shock of cold tiles tamed his arousal a little, and Jonathan, the
    little fuck, didn’t seem to have any intention of finishing what he’d
    started anyway. One more pump and he pulled his hand away, slid it
    down to Bran’s balls and gave them a too-rough soaping up.
    “Hey, not so hard!” Bran said, then realized immediately what
    he’d done.
    Worst of it was, Jonathan didn’t get any gentler as he said,
    “Eight.”
    Actually, no, Bran was wrong. The real worst of it was that
    Jonathan was reaching for a disposable razor with his free hand, and
    he didn’t really mean to do what Bran thought he was gonna do, did
    he? “Spread your legs and hold