A low sound slipped out of me before I could stop it.
I pressed my forehead to the tile, embarrassed and flushed even though no one could see me.
This was ridiculous.
This was biology. This was adrenaline misfiring. This was trauma bonding.
This was absolutely not me being turned on by the fact that a powerful, beautiful man could become a powerful, beautiful dragon.
Except—
My body didn’t give a damn.
My pulse thudded between my legs, insistent and humiliating. The water traced over hypersensitive skin, amplifying every nerve in my body. His voice echoed in my head.I don’t mind needing you.
Needing me.
The memory of his hand at my waist. The steady heat of him, and the strength he held in check so carefully.
Hot water cascaded over my breasts, over my stomach, lower. I sucked in a breath as sensation spiked, sharper now, more focused. My hands moved without permission, tracing the path the water had taken, rediscovering skin that felt too sensitive, too awake.
I bit my lip and failed to stay quiet.
I imagined his hands instead of mine—those large and devastatingly capable hands. Teasing my clit, fingers sliding in and out of me. His chest against my back. His voice, low and rough, close to my ear.
My body answered the fantasy immediately. Heat tightened, coiled, then pulsed outward in waves until my knees buckled. I pressed two fingers inside myself, massaging my clit with my thumb, wanting to feel more pressure, more fullness. I moaned, leaning on the tile for support. The marble was cool against my burning skin, and the contrast made everything worse. Better.
I gasped, shoulders tensing as sensation crested and rolled through me, bright and overwhelming and deeply, embarrassinglysatisfying.
It was fast and intense. It shattered me. Made my thighs shake.
When it faded, shame rushed in, sharp as cold air.
I leaned my head back against the wall and let the water continue to fall.
This was reckless.
This was dangerous.
This was exactly how women ended up losing themselves to men who could burn down kingdoms.
I hated how fast I unraveled.
Hated that a man—this man—could make me feel like this without even touching me.
But under the hate was something else.
Want.
Raw, undeniable, powerfulwant.
I let myself feel it.
Just for a moment, here, alone, with the steam rising around me like a shield.
When the aftershock of the orgasm faded, I quickly finished showering and stepped out. I wrapped myself in the robe, welcoming the warmth it provided. I hadn’t turned on the heater, and the room was drafty.
I stood there for a moment, feeling alive in a way that had nothing to do with danger and everything to do with being exactly where I was.
