Steam curls around us,fogging the glass, the hiss of the water filling the space.The heat sinks into my skin and loosens muscles I didn’t even realize were tight.
Daniela steps in beside me.Droplets cling to her lashes, trail down her cheeks, and disappear along the curve of her jaw.My chest tightens—not from lust, though there’s plenty of that—but from the way she looks at me.Like she trusts me.Like she’s letting me in.
I take the bottle of body wash from the shelf, flip the cap, and pour some into my palm.The scent—something clean, citrus with a hint of spice—mixes with the humid air.I rub my hands together until the lather blooms between my fingers and then slide them over her shoulders.
Her skin is warm, slick, impossibly soft.I work the soap down her arms, slow enough to feel every dip and rise of muscle and bone.She tilts her head, eyes closed, lips parted just enough to let out the faintest sigh.
I want to kiss her.I want to press her against the wall and take everything she’s offering without asking.But that’s not what this is.Not tonight.
“Turn around,” I murmur.
She does, her back to me now, water cascading over her like liquid glass.I work the soap across her shoulder blades, down her spine, to the small of her back.I trace lazy circles at her hips before I drag my hands lower, just to the tops of her thighs.Not too far.Not yet.
When I’m done, I pass her the bottle.She doesn’t speak, just pours a little into her palm and starts on me.Her touch is lighter than mine, almost teasing, sliding over my chest, up to my neck, her fingers curling just slightly as they pass my collarbones.She works the lather over my chest, her nails grazing, and every muscle in my body goes tight.
She moves behind me, hands gliding over my shoulders, down my back, slow and deliberate.The water keeps running, but I feel like everything in here has gone still except her hands on me.
When she’s finished, she rinses me with the showerhead.I take it from her in return, rinsing her just as slowly, my fingers combing through her hair until every trace of soap is gone.
We don’t talk.We don’t need to.The air between us is heavy with something unspoken.
I turn the water off, but neither of us moves right away.We just stand there, steam curling around us, breaths mingling, so close I can feel her heartbeat in the space between us.
If only this moment could last.
If only real life didn’t get in the way.
Eagle.
My father.
The mystery of Ted.
And most importantly…
Whoever is threatening Daniela.
If we could stay here, caught in the steamy paradise together, simply looking at each other, kissing each other, caring for each other…
But the steam eventually dissipates.
I open the shower door, reach for a fluffy white towel, and hand it to Daniela.She slides it over her hair, drawing out the water, and then wraps it around herself like a toga.
I grab one myself, dry my hair quickly, and wrap it around my waist.
I give her my hand, and she walks out of the shower.
My en suite bathroom is huge, and the mirrors are all fogged with steam.
We’re naked.Clean and naked.
And already my dick is hard again.
But this time…
This time there won’t be a couch.This time it won’t be hard and fast.
This time it will be on my bed.My bed, with soft bamboo sheets that feel cool under our bodies, and with the moonlight streaming in through my window.
