He didn’t move at first. Just stood there, watching me. His eyes weren’t demanding—they were patient, dark, focused. But there was heat behind them. A quiet, aching hunger he wasn’t hiding.
I turned toward the bathroom, heart pounding so hard it felt like it echoed in my bones. My hands fumbled with the hem of my shirt, nerves tangling with something molten and rising.
Before I could pull it over my head, Chain stepped in close—so close I could feel the warmth of his breath on the back of my neck. His hand slid over mine, stopping me.
“Hey,” he said quietly, voice low and rough. “If you need space just tell me, and I’ll understand.”
“I know.” And I did. That was the problem. He meant it.
Still, I wanted him there. Needed him there.
“But I want you here,” I whispered.
The bathroom lights were dim, soft gold against the steam curling through the air. I could barely see my own reflection, just the faint impression of flushed cheeks and eyes too bright.
I stepped beneath the spray first, the water searing hot across my skin, but I needed that heat—needed something to match the riot building inside me.
Chain joined me a moment later, and the space shrank. Steam blurred his edges, but I could still feel him everywhere, close enough to taste, to breathe in. Water ran down his chest in rivulets, carving through muscle and old scars. I couldn’t stop staring.
For a breath, neither of us moved. That tension still hung between us, taut and trembling.
Then he reached for me, one hand at my waist, the other brushing a wet strand of hair behind my ear. The touch was light. Tentative. His thumb skimmed my cheekbone, then traced the curve of my jaw.
“You’re sure?” he asked, voice rough with restraint.
“Yes,” I said, barely louder than the water. “I want to experience this with you.”
Something in his expression shifted, like a thread had snapped, one he’d been holding too tightly.
His mouth found mine in the next breath, no hesitation this time. The kiss started soft, but it deepened quickly—hungry, heated. Our mouths slid wet and open, breath catching, handswandering. His palm splayed over my lower back, pulling me flush against him, and I gasped into the kiss at the feel of him—hard, solid,ready.
My hands explored without thinking—over his shoulders, down the ridges of his spine, nails grazing skin and drawing a low sound from his throat that set something primal loose in me.
We moved like we couldn’t get close enough. Water pounded down around us, but all I could feel washim. His hands cupped the back of my thighs, lifting me easily, my back pressed to the cool tile wall. I wrapped my legs around his waist instinctively, breath catching as the slick heat of him slid against me—close, so close.
“Tell me if it’s too much,” he murmured against my neck, lips dragging a wet path along my throat.
“It’s not,” I whispered. “Don’t stop.”
His mouth moved lower, lips and tongue finding the hollow of my collarbone, the curve of my breast, worshipping every inch of me like I was something sacred—not broken, not fragile—justwanted.
My head fell back, a soft moan slipping out as he teased, kissed, took his time. Every touch was deliberate, reverent—yet there was a tension building between us, aching and impossible to ignore.
I rocked my hips against him, desperate for friction, for connection. “Chain…”
His groan was low, ragged. “Fuck. You feel like heaven.”
Then he found me with his fingers—slow at first, gentle, sliding through slickness and heat. He kissed me as he touched me, deep and full, like he couldn’t bear the distance. I clung to him, chest pressed to his, skin to skin, every nerve lit up.
“Please,” I whispered against his mouth, not even sure what I was begging for.
“I’ve got you,” he said, voice cracked open with want. “Let me take care of you.”
And he did.
His movements grew more insistent, mouth returning to my neck, my shoulder, my lips, until I was unraveling in his arms—hips jerking, nails biting into his back, cries swallowed by steam and water and the relentless rhythm of us. He held me through it, kissed me through it, and when I finally sagged against him, boneless and trembling, he didn’t let me go.
“You’re incredible,” he murmured, forehead pressed to mine, breath shaky. “You don’t even know.”
