I don't wait for her response. I can't. Instead, I let the bathroom door click shut behind me with finality and flip on the cold water before ripping off my boxers. The cold water does absolutely nothing. I brace my hands against the tile, letting the spray beat down on my neck, my shoulders, but all I can feel is the weight of her body against mine. All I can smell is jasmine. All I can hear is her voice from the dream,I want you.
"Fuck," I mutter, my forehead pressed against the cool tile.
I switch the water to hot and reach down, because what's the point of pretending anymore? My hand wraps around myself, and I'm already so close it's pathetic. A few strokes and I'll be done, and maybe then I can think clearly. Maybe then I can face her without wanting to…
The bathroom door opens, and my hand freezes.
"Leave," I grind out, but the shower door opens, and she is there in her silk nighty that leaves little to the imagination. But it's not her body that has my chest tightening; it's the look in her eyes, the one that mirrors mine.
"I'm not letting you do this alone," she says, and her voice trembles slightly. "Not when I started it."
"Get out," I rasp, but it comes out weak because it's the last thing I want. But I can't be another one of her mistakes. Not with this.
"No." She steps closer to the shower's edge, and I can see her pulse racing in her throat. "You said you never hated me."
"I meant it."
"Then let me finish what I started." Her eyes drop, taking in my hand still wrapped around myself. "Please."
"You don't know what you're asking."
"Yes, I do." She reaches for the hem of her nightgown. "I'm done pretending I don't want this."
The nightgown hits the floor, and my brain short-circuits. God, I've imagined this so many times, but nothing prepared me for the reality of her standing here, bare and vulnerable. The curve of her waist, the swell of her hips, the way her hair frames her face. She's devastating.
"Last chance," I manage, my voice barely recognizable. "If you come in here, I'm not going to be able to stop."
"Good," she says and steps into the shower.
The water soaks her immediately, plastering her hair to her shoulders, running in rivulets down her body between her full breasts, over the plane of her stomach, following the curve of her thighs. She's close enough to touch now, close enough that I can see the goosebumps rising on her skin despite the steam. Close enough that I can count each breath she takes.
"I didn't cross that pillow wall by accident," she says quietly, and there's something raw in her voice, something honest that makes my chest tight. "I woke up on your side because it's where I want to be, because I'm tired of fighting what I feel."
"What do you feel?" I need to hear her say it. Need the words.
"Like I'm going insane." Her hand reaches out, fingers trailing down my chest, leaving fire in their wake. "Like every night in that bed is torture. Like I married my enemy and somehow fell for him anyway."
I catch her wrist, my thumb pressing against her racing pulse. "You don't fall for people you hate."
"I know." Her eyes meet mine, and they're darker than I've ever seen them, pupils blown wide with want. "That's the problem. I never actually hated you. I just hated how much I wanted you."
Something inside me snaps. I pull her against me, and she gasps as our bodies collide, skin on skin, wet and slick andperfect, nothing between us now. My mouth finds hers, and the kiss is brutal, desperate. Weeks, months, years of pent-up frustration pouring out all at once. She kisses me back just as fiercely, her hands sliding up my shoulders, into my hair, and when her nails drag over my scalp, every nerve ending in my body sparks to life.
I break away to breathe. "Tell me to stop," I say against her lips, giving her one more out.
"You better not."
My hands slides down her sides, over her hips, and over her round ass, where I fill each hand with a heady amount of cheek and squeeze hard. She arches into me with a gasp that I swallow with another kiss. "Tell me what you want."
"Everything," she breathes, her voice breaking on the word. "I want everything. I want…" Her hand wraps around my hard length, and my vision goes white. "I want to feel you come apart. I want to know I'm the one who does this to you."
Then, before my mind can put together a response, she's sinking to her knees on the wet tile.
"Wait..." I start, but her mouth is already on me, and the word dissolves into a groan that echoes off the tile walls. Coming in here was one thing, but getting on her knees for me is another.
"Fuck, sweetheart," I exhale sharply. My hand finds her hair, tangling in the wet strands. She looks up at me through her lashes, water streaming down both of us, her lips stretched around me, and the sight alone nearly destroys me.
She takes me deeper, hollowing her cheeks, and my head falls back against the wall. Her hands grip my thighs, her nails dig in, and my cock twitches, already feral that she's leaving a mark for me. The soft sounds she makes vibrate through me with every stroke, and I'm on the verge of insanity.
