"Your turn," Camille murmured. "The bath is ready. And I want you next to me."
But Lou shook her head, her eyes still dark with desire. "Not yet. First, let me take care of you."
She led Camille to the bathroom, where steam rose from the oversized tub and the scent of hotel bath gel filled the air. The water was the perfect temperature—hot enough to soothe, not hot enough to burn. Camille lowered herself into the tub with a groan of pleasure, her muscles relaxing as the heat surrounded her.
Lou knelt beside the tub, her knees on the bath mat, her sleeves rolled up to her elbows. She dipped a washcloth intothe water and began to wash Camille's shoulders with slow, deliberate strokes.
"You've worked so hard these past weeks," Lou murmured, her voice soft as the cloth moved down Camille's arm. "All that rehab. All that patience. I watched you push through the pain, never complaining, never giving up."
The cloth traced circles across Camille's back, then moved to her other arm. The sensation was intimate in a way that transcended sexuality—this careful tending, this gentle worship of her body.
"I wanted to come back for you," Camille said. "For the team. But mostly for you. I couldn't stand the thought of watching from the sideline while you fought the biggest battle of the season."
Lou's hand stilled on Camille's shoulder. "I couldn't have done it without you. Even when you were injured, even when you could only watch from the bench—having you there gave me strength."
The washcloth resumed its journey, sliding down Camille's chest, circling her breasts with a touch that was still gentle but edged with something more. Camille's breath quickened, her nipples hardening beneath the wet fabric.
"Lou..."
"Let me." Lou's voice was a whisper now, her free hand sliding beneath the water to cup Camille's breast. "Let me show you how much I missed you. How much I need you."
The washcloth fell away, replaced by Lou's bare hand—warm from the water, sure in its movements. Her thumb brushed Camille's nipple, and the touch sent sparks cascading through Camille's body.
"More," Camille breathed. "Please."
Lou's hand slid lower, tracing the curve of Camille'sstomach, the jut of her hip bones, the soft skin of her inner thigh. The water rippled with each movement, warm waves lapping against Camille's sensitized skin.
And then Lou's fingers found the heat between Camille's legs, and rational thought dissolved entirely.
"Oh god." Camille's head fell back against the rim of the tub, her eyes fluttering closed. Lou's fingers were gentle at first—exploring, teasing, learning the contours of Camille's desire. But as Camille's hips began to roll against the touch, as her breathing grew ragged and desperate, Lou's movements became more purposeful.
Two fingers slid inside, and Camille gasped. The angle was awkward with Lou kneeling beside the tub, but the intimacy of it—the steam rising around them, the warm water surrounding her, Lou's face so close to hers—made up for any physical limitations.
"Look at me," Lou commanded, her voice low and rough. "I want to see your face when you come."
Camille forced her eyes open, meeting Lou's gaze. Those green eyes were blazing with love and lust and reverence—an expression that made Camille's heart clench even as her body climbed toward release.
Lou's thumb found her clit and began to circle with devastating precision. Her fingers curled inside, finding that spot that made stars explode behind Camille's eyes. The pleasure built like a wave—cresting, gathering, about to break.
"I've got you," Lou whispered. "Let go. I've got you."
The orgasm crashed through Camille with the force of a hurricane. She cried out Lou's name, her body arching in the water, her inner walls clenching around Lou's fingers as pulse after pulse of release shook through her. Lou worked her through it, gentling her touch as thewaves subsided, keeping her anchored as she floated back down.
"That was..." Camille couldn't find the words. Her body was liquid, her mind blissfully blank. "That was incredible."
"That was just the beginning." Lou smiled.
Camille reached out of the tub, water streaming from her arm, and grabbed the front of Lou's t-shirt. "Get in here."
"The water?—"
"I don't care about the water." Camille tugged harder, and Lou laughed—a surprised, delighted sound—before standing and stripping off her clothes with efficient movements.
Lou's body was familiar now, beloved—the lean muscle of her arms, the curve of her hips, the small scars that mapped her hockey history. Camille watched her step into the tub, watched the water rise and slosh over the edge as their bodies displaced it, and didn't care about the mess at all.
"Come here. I need to hold you."
Camille slid up through the water and into Lou's arms. They lay tangled together in the warm bath, their hearts pounding in sync, their bodies pressed as close as physics would allow.
