Pushing my wet hair out of my face, I reached for the shampoo only to stop with my hand frozen in midair when I saw the selections of shampoo, conditioner, and body wash. Most were what I recognized as Ryan’s products, except for an extra bottle of body wash that was my favorite.

But the biggest surprise for me was that it was at least half empty.

Jealousy hit me so hard I gasped at the pressure it added to my lungs. No. He’d said he hadn’t been with anyone. Ryan had never lied to me—except by omission. And what guy would even fib about being a virgin? Not one I’d ever met, that was for sure. They wanted to brag about their experience, not pretend like they had none.

But why did Ryan have a bottle of my body wash in his shower that had obviously been regularly used?

Angrily, I quickly washed and conditioned my hair. But instead of using the body wash, I grabbed his and soaped my entire body with it. I didn’t linger and try out the wall of different pressure shower heads. Turning off the water, I grabbed one towel to wrap around my hair before drying off with the other.

Back in the bedroom, I found it still empty and pulled a T-shirt and a pair of boxers from a drawer in the walk-in closet. With my hair still wrapped in a towel, I marched into the kitchen in search of Ryan.

He was standing at the island crafting sandwiches, while something simmered on the stove. A tray had already been set with bowls and plates, two glasses filled with ice and cans of soda beside them. Lifting his head from his task, Ryan raked his dark eyes over me in his clothes, and his nostrils flared with approval.

“I could get used to this,” he murmured with a smirk.

I crossed my arms over my chest, glaring at him even as the rest of my body tried to melt under his hungry appraisal. “Who uses the bottle of my favorite body wash that’s in your shower?”

The smirk only grew into a grin. “Think about it for a moment, my heart. I’m sure the answer will come to you.”

“Ryan, tell me!” I hated that my voice was all whiny, but I wanted an answer, damn it.

Dropping the butter knife into the jar of mayo, he walked around the island. Bending, he lifted me by the waist, and I instantly wrapped my legs around his. “I do.”

I buried my face in his neck, sniffing his skin, but all I could smell was him. “No, you don’t. There’s too much of it gone, and you smell nothing like it.”

Laughing, he carried me over to the island and sat me on the granite top before caging me in with his arms. “Baby, I use it every time I shower, and sometimes I shower several times a day. Because I can’t get you out of my mind, and I need to smell you. On me.” He leaned in, skimming his nose down my neck. With a pained groan, he bit into the tender flesh just under my ear. “Fuck, you smell like me. I love that, my heart. It makes me so damn hard.”