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Her fingers moved expertly as her mind painted vivid pictures of him undressing her, his eyes raking over her body with raw desire. She imagined the chiseled lines of his torso molding against hers, the gruff sound of his voice whispering dirty things into her ear as he claimed her. A moan escaped her as she imagined his lips tracing a path down her navel, sending sparks flying across her skin.
The bathroom was a steamy oasis, the air thick and heavy with moisture. She stood in the center of it all, consumed by the fantasy of him. Her fingers moved with purpose, tracing every curve and dip of her body, igniting a fiery heat within her. The memory of Connelly’s lips on hers lingered like a tantalizing promise, and she longed to feel them again. With each passing second, her desire for him grew stronger, consuming her completely.
She craved him.
More than she had ever craved anyone else.
Her breath hitched as her fingers quickened their pace, chasing after the pleasure that was always just out of reach. She relished the memory of his scent, his touch, his taste. The sensations drove her higher and higher until she trembled with anticipation on the edge of release.
And then she fell.
The orgasm washed over her in a wild rush that left her body tingling and her knees weak. She slumped against the shower wall, gasping for breath as the water washed away her exhaustion and replaced it with a warm, languid satisfaction.
Holy shit.
She’d actually orgasmed.
She hadn’t thought it was possible for her anymore.
“Veronica?” Connelly tapped on the bathroom door, his voice muffled by the wood. “Are you okay? You’ve been in there for quite a while.”
“I’m fine,” she called back, stifling a laugh. This definitely wasn’t what he’d meant when he told her to take care of herself. “Just... uh, just give me another minute.”
There was a beat of hesitation.
“Take your time,” he finally said, the hint of concern still lingering in his voice.
She waited until his footsteps retreated from the door, then closed her eyes and sank to the floor, curling her knees towards her chest. She let herself drift in the warm silence of the bathroom, her body still humming from the sheer pleasure she’d experienced. It was a strange feeling—strange and wonderful.
She felt alive.
More than that, she felt like herself again.
After a while, the water began to run cold, and she scrambled to turn it off. She reached for her towel, wrapped it around her body, and stepped out of the shower.
The steam had fogged up the mirror. She swiped a hand over it and studied her reflection. Her eyes were brighter than they had been in ages, her cheeks flushed from the heat and exertion, and... something more.
She liked the way her muscles ached and the heady sensation of power coursing through her veins. She felt strong. And beautiful. Not because of any specific physical attribute but simply because she was rediscovering parts of herself she’d forgotten existed or maybe didn’t know were there in the first place.
This was the reflection of a woman who wasn’t afraid. A woman who was capable and sexy. A woman who knew what she wanted and went for it.
She liked this version of herself.
And she actually was okay.
For the first time in a very long time, she hadn’t been lying when she answered that question.
part two
light
“For there is always light,
if only we’re brave enough to see it.
If only we’re brave enough to be it.”
-Amanda Gorman
