My face burns, but I say it. “Yes.”
His hand slips between us, thumb finding my clit again. I almost sob from the shock of it.
“Yaromir, I can’t.”
“You can.”
“I already did.”
“You’ll do it again.”
He rubs my clit while he fucks me, and my body gives in to him completely. The ache turns into heat. The heat turns into pressure. My thighs shake around his waist, and I feel myself getting close again, impossible as it seems.
He watches me through the steam. “Look at me.”
I force my eyes open. His face is wet, scar stark under the water, eyes fixed on mine like he’s taking every reaction and keeping it.
I come with his name in my mouth. My pussy tightens around his cock, and he swears, thrusting harder through it, chasing his own release while I shake against him.
His mouth covers mine, swallowing my cries, and then his body goes rigid. He comes inside me, deep, holding me pinned to the wall as the last hard thrusts roll through him.
For a while, neither of us moves.
The water keeps running.
My cheek rests against his shoulder. His cock is still inside me. His hands stay under my thighs, holding me up as if I weigh nothing.
I’m boneless.
Empty of anger.
Full of him.
Eventually, he turns his head and kisses the side of mine. Just once. A quiet kiss. Almost tender. That frightens me more than the rest.
“Can you stand?” he asks.
“No.”
His chest moves under my cheek. A laugh. Small, but real.
I lift my head. “Don’t laugh.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
“A little.”
I should be offended. Instead, I smile into his shoulder.
He carries me under the water until it rinses us clean. Then he lowers me carefully, keeping one arm around me when my legs tremble.
I look at his face. “You’re still angry,” I say.
His expression changes, closing slightly. “Yes.”
“At Larisa?”
