"What are you scared of, then?"
Her gaze drops to my mouth, then lifts. "How much I want this."
"Want what?" I push because she deserves the choice spelled out in full, not just implied.
"You," she breathes. "Want you. Again."
That's it. "Turn around," I murmur. She shivers but obeys, turning until she faces the mirror. Our reflections fill the glass. Her in damp terrycloth, me behind her, ink and scars and denim. I hover near her hips without touching. "Still okay?" She nods too fast. "Words, Sloane." I catch her gaze in the mirror. "Give me words."
"Yes," she says, voice rough. "Please."
"Good girl."
The words come out before I can check them. In the mirror I see them land, her eyes going wide then half-shut. I take the edge of the towel where it's knotted and ease it loose, letting the terrycloth slip an inch, then another. Giving her all the time in the world to change her mind. She doesn't. She watches herself instead, eyes wide as the fabric falls lower, baring the swell of her breasts, the line of her ribs.
The towel drops. Puddles at her feet. She's naked in front of me, steam slicking her, hair dripping down her spine. Water beads on her shoulders, along her vertebrae, the curve of her ass. I take her in with a slow, hungry sweep; every inch committing itself to memory whether I want it to or not.
I rest my hands on her hips. Heat pools under my touch. She exhales as if she's been holding her breath since Chicago. "You're fucking stunning," I tell her. Color blooms high on her cheeks.
"You're staring."
"Yeah," I say. "I am."
Her fingers find my thigh, seemingly to anchor herself. The contact sends a line of heat straight to my cock. I lean in, mouthnear her ear. "Get under the spray," I tell her. "I'll take care of you."
A tremor runs through her. "Okay."
We move together. She goes into the spray, I’m right behind, boots and all, because apparently I've lost the ability to think past her. The water hits her first, then splashes onto my chest, hot and relentless. I brace one palm on the tile above her head, the other skimming up her stomach, over her ribs, to the underside of her breast. She arches into my touch like permission remembered.
"Fuck, Sloane…" I rasp.
Her head drops against my shoulder. The cascade drums over both of us, drowning out everything but her small sounds and my rough breathing. My hand closes over her breast; my thumb brushes a peaked nipple. She gasps, hips jerking into me. Denim strains at my groin, hard against the curve of her ass.
"Feel that?" I say against her neck, teeth scraping just enough to make her shiver harder. "That's what you do to me. Right here, right now. It's only you."
Her fingers claw at my forearm, pulling me tighter. "Knox…" she says, barely voiced.
"Say my name like that and I'll give you anything you want."
I wrap one arm around her waist, anchoring her, and slide the other hand down between her thighs. Already slick and hot; water mixes with arousal. When I stroke her slowly, she chokes on a sound halfway between sob and moan.
"Good girl," I praise, low and filthy. "So fucking responsive. You melt the second I touch you, don't you?"
She nods, breath breaking. I work her clit in knowing circles. My other hand massages her breast, rolling the nipple between my fingers. Her knees wobble. I cinch my grip and take her full weight, keeping her upright as she breaks.
"Don't stop," she gasps. "Please don't stop."
"Not planning on it," I growl.
She's at the edge in under a minute. Her hips rock helplessly into my hand, mouth open on shattered breaths. "Come for me, Sloane," I order, voice gone dark. "Right now with my hand on you and my cock against you. Let go."
She shatters. Her whole body tenses, then shudders. A low, ragged cry rips from her throat as she comes apart in my hands. I hold her through it, fingers on her clit, arm banded around her waist, mouth on her wet shoulder.
"That's it. That's my girl."
When she sags into me, boneless, I press a kiss to the side of her neck, my chest heaving against her spine. I need to be inside her so badly it hurts.
"Condom," I manage, voice barely human. "Back pocket. Grab it for me."
