“The people you’re living with will worry,” she pointed out. She picked up the body wash and poured some into her hands. “I’m not into sneaking around.” She stroked her hands, filmy with bubbles, down his arms, smiling mischievously.
“It’s…I live with Mrs McCall and her son, Scott – they’re awesome, I just…it’s not home, you know?” he admitted with a shrug, and then smiled as she began to wash him, humming in contentment at the feeling of being taken care of.
Summer’s eyes danced, and she stepped back just a little, to the limits of the tub, and abandoned washing him to wash herself, bare hands sliding over her skin slowly. “Where’s home, then, if it’s not with the people who take care of you?”