“A bit,” she admitted. She washed her whole front, then pressed herself up against him, leaving soap everywhere. “Time to get clean, Isaac,” she purred.
Blushing and trying not to react to the sensation of her wet, soapy body shifting against his, he nodded and licked his lips. Twisting to reach for the soap, he lathered up his chest and shoulders, his groin, and then his legs and feet, bending over to clean in between his toes.
The way his wet hair stuck to his head and face made her laugh. “You look like a wet dog,” she teased, stealing into his place under the water and rubbing the soap off herself. Making a cup of her hands, she poured water over his head, then leaned in to lick his face.