"Your turn."
This time he doesn't stop me. He watches, golden eyes burning, as I undo his belt and push his jeans down his powerful thighs. He steps out of them, toeing off his boots in the process, until he's as naked as I am.
I take my time looking at him, appreciating the sheer magnificence of his body. He's built like the warrior he claims to be—broad shoulders, powerful chest tapering to narrow hips, strong thighs. Scars mark his skin here and there, telling stories of battles I can only imagine. And his arousal...
"Impressive," I murmur, letting my gaze linger deliberately.
A flash of amusement crosses his face. “I’m pleased you approve.”
I swallow and nod. I have no words at this moment.
He guides us under the spray together, warm water cascading over us. It feels heavenly after the long night, washing away the grime of industrial areas and the stress of the past hours. Fen stands behind me, his body a wall of heat at my back, and reaches for my shampoo.
"May I?" he asks, his voice low in my ear.
I nod again, not trusting my voice. His fingers work the shampoo through my hair, massaging my scalp with a gentleness that seems impossible from hands so large and powerful. A moan escapes me at how good it feels, tension melting from my shoulders under his touch.
"You like that," he observes, satisfaction in his voice.
"Don't sound so smug," I murmur, but there's no bite to the words. I'm too busy enjoying the sensation of being cared for, something I've allowed so rarely in my life.
He rinses my hair carefully, then reaches for the soap, working it into a lather between his hands before running them over my shoulders and down my back. Each touch is both soothing and arousing. He’s cleaning away the day and setting my skin alight with need.
When his hands slide around to my front, cupping my breasts, I lean back against him, head falling to his shoulder. His mouth finds my neck, kissing and nipping as his fingers work their magic, circling and teasing until I'm gasping.
"Turn around," he murmurs against my ear, and I comply without hesitation.
Water streams between us as we face each other, droplets clinging to his eyelashes and running down the planes of his chest. I reach for him, tracing the definition of his muscles, learning the topography of his body with my fingertips. He watches me, allowing the exploration, his breathing growing heavier when my hands drift lower.
When I wrap my fingers around him, his eyes close briefly, a groan escaping his throat. "Astrid," he warns.
"Yes?" I reply innocently, enjoying the power I have over him in this moment.
His eyes open, dark with desire. "Two can play that game," he says, and before I can respond, his hand is between my thighs, finding the center of my need with unerring accuracy.
I gasp, my grip on him tightening reflexively as pleasure shoots through me. His mouth captures mine, swallowing my moans as his fingers work magic, circling and stroking until my legs tremble.
"That's it," he encourages against my lips. "Let go for me."
The tension builds, his skilled touch and the hot water and the current between us all combining until I'm teetering on the edge. When his thumb presses just right, I shatter, crying out his name as waves of pleasure crash over me. He holds me steady through it, murmuring praise and encouragement in my ear.
As I come back to myself, his mouth trails down my neck, across my collarbone, lower still. The aftershocks of pleasure still rippling through me, but instead of satisfaction, I feel a hunger growing stronger. He drops to his knees before me, looking up through water-spiked lashes, his golden eyes asking a silent question.
"Yes," I breathe without hesitation, one hand bracing against the shower wall, the other tangling in his wet hair. The last of my professional walls crumbles beneath the intensity of his gaze. I want this—want him—with a fierceness that would terrify me if it didn't feel so right.
His large hands cup the back of my thighs, supporting me as his mouth finds the sensitive skin of my inner thigh. He takes his time, teasing, leaving light kisses and gentle bites that make me squirm with anticipation.
"Fen," I plead, tugging gently at his hair. "Don't tease."
I feel his smile against my skin. "Patience," he murmurs, but then he gives me what I want, his mouth finding my center with devastating precision.
My head falls back against the tile wall, a strangled sound escaping my throat. The connection between us intensifies everywhere his mouth touches, creating a feedback loop of pleasure that has me trembling within seconds. One of his hands leaves my thigh, fingers joining his mouth in a rhythm that has me climbing rapidly toward another peak.
There's magic in how he reads my body, adjusting pressure and pace in perfect response to my reactions. It's as if he knows exactly what I need before I do.
"Oh god," I gasp as the tension builds again, faster and more intense than before. My fingers tighten in his hair, holding him close as my hips move involuntarily against his mouth.
He growls against me, the vibration pushing me right to the edge. When he looks up, meeting my eyes as he pleasures me, something primal and profound passes between us. The golden flecks in his eyes seem to glow brighter, and the connection between us surges like a live wire.
