My voice catches.
I step in.
She startles when my hands slide around her waist—just a quick, soft gasp—but she doesn’t pull away. She melts. Actually melts. Her back arcs into my chest, her head tipping to the side so my mouth can find the curve of her neck.
“Gyon,” she breathes, half surprise, half invitation.
I kiss the place where her shoulder meets her throat—slow, open-mouthed, tasting heat and water and her skin’s faint salt. I feel her pulse leap beneath my lips. My hands move lower, mapping her hips, her waist, her stomach with the kind of care that would embarrass the Reaper legion if they saw me now.
She leans heavier against me, palms finding the wall for balance.
“Didn’t hear you come in,” she says, breath unsteady.
“I didn’t intend for you to,” I murmur, my voice a low scrape against the tile and steam.
“You stalking me now?”
“Always.”
She laughs—a breathy, soft sound that hits me harder than any blade ever has.
I turn her gently to face me.
The water slicks down her cheeks, her neck, her collarbone, gliding over the soft swell of her chest. Her eyes lift to mine. There’s no hesitation. No fear. Just… trust. Want.
And love.
The kind she tried to hide for years, but it’s here now. Bare and unshielded.
I slide my hands along her arms, slower than I ever thought myself capable of. She shivers—not from cold, but from anticipation. Her fingertips brush my jaw, my shoulder, my chest, tracing lines I didn’t know I needed traced.
She whispers, “You’re staring.”
“Yes,” I admit. “I spent three years dreaming of you. I will stare as long as you allow it.”
Color rises in her cheeks, flushed and warm from the steam.
I lift her gently, hands secure around her thighs. She wraps her legs around my hips, her arms around my shoulders. She fits against me like she was designed for this exact shape, this exact moment.
Her breath catches.
“Liora,” I say, my forehead resting against hers. “You’re sure?”
Her eyes soften—brown, bright, fierce.
“Always.”
A groan drags out of my chest. “You should not say that word to me.”
“Why not?”
“Because I will take it literally.”
She laughs again, arms tightening around my neck. “Good.”
I kiss her. Hard. Then slow. Then hard again. I let the rhythm find us, let the moment shape itself. Her hands roam my shoulders, my neck, my hair. She pulls me closer, deeper. The water beats down in hot waves, mixing with heat rising off her skin.
Everything smells like steam and citrus and her.
