If Connor didn't understand why I'd left despite the explicit warnings and tactical concerns, that was entirely on him.
Some things were worth the calculated risk.
Some people were worth protecting even when it complicated everything.
I reached for the soap to start lathering up when the glass shower door slid open suddenly, billowing clouds of steam out into the cooler bathroom air.
Ella stood there in the doorway, completely naked and looking at me with eyes that made my breath catch in my throat and my heart stutter.
"Can I join?" she asked, voice soft but intent crystal clear.
I was instantly, almost painfully hard.
My cock standing at full attention like it hadn't just had her twice in the past few hours.
She glanced down deliberately, tracking the physical evidence of my want, and smiled that small satisfied smile that made something warm bloom in my chest. "I'll take that as a yes."
She stepped in carefully, water immediately hitting her skin, streaming down her body, darkening her blonde hair to honey.
She took the soap from my hand before I could use it and started working it into a thick lather between her palms.
Then slowly, methodically, with complete focus, she began washing me.
Starting with my head, fingers working through my short hair with gentle pressure, nails scraping lightly against my scalp in a way that made my eyes want to close in pleasure.
Down to my neck, thumbs pressing into tense muscles. My shoulders, working out knots I didn't know I'd been carrying. Working the soap in careful circles across my chest, fingers tracing old scars without asking questions about their origins.
To my midsection, abs flexing involuntarily under her deliberate touch.
She was teasing me. Taking her sweet time. Letting me feel every single movement of her soapy hands against my skin.
When she finally reached my cock, she wrapped soapy fingers around it once—firm, confident, deliberate—stroking from base to tip with agonizing slowness.
Then let go completely and moved on like it was nothing.
The tease nearly fucking killed me.
My hands clenched at my sides to keep from grabbing her.
She finished washing my ass with that same careful, maddening attention, hands sliding over muscles, fingers digging in slightly. Then down my legs, crouching gracefully in the spray to reach all the way down to my feet, washing each one thoroughly.
When she stood back up, water streaming over both of us, creating rivers down her perfect skin, she held out the soap with a small smile.
"Your turn."
I took it.
And I also took my absolute time.
Worshiping her body while washing it.
Because God, she was gorgeous in a way that made my chest tight.
Every curve. Every inch of wet skin catching the bathroom light. Every small involuntary sound she made when I touched places that were particularly sensitive.
I started with her hair, fingers massaging her scalp with firm circular pressure until she made this soft, satisfied noise that went straight to my already hard cock.
Down her neck, thumbs tracing the line of her throat. Her shoulders. Her arms, soaping every inch.
