"Dante?"
Marina's voice cuts through the steam.
I turn my head. She stands in the doorway, wearing one of my shirts. It hangs to her mid-thigh, the sleeves rolled up past her wrists. Her hair is loose around her shoulders.
"Need some company?"
"Yes."
The word comes out rough. Desperate. I don't recognize my own voice.
Marina doesn't hesitate. She pulls my shirt over her head and drops it on the floor. No underwear. Nothing underneath.
She steps into the shower.
The water hits her shoulders and runs down her body in streams. She moves closer, pressing her palms flat against my chest. Her touch is gentle. Careful. Like she's handling something fragile.
Maybe she is.
"You're thinking too loud," she says.
I almost laugh. "That obvious?"
"You've been in here for forty minutes." Her fingers trace the edge of my wound.
"It's fine."
"It's not fine." She looks up at me. Water clings to her lashes. "Nothing about this is fine, Dante."
I cup her face in my hands. My thumbs brush across her cheekbones. She's so small. So fragile. And she's standing in a shower with a man who agreed to betray his family hours ago.
"Marina." Her name feels like a prayer on my tongue. "I don't deserve you."
"Probably not." Her lips curve into a small smile. "But you're stuck with me anyway."
I kiss her.
My hands slide into her wet hair, tilting her head back. She gasps against my mouth, and I swallow the sound.
Her arms wrap around my neck. She presses her body against mine, and the contact sends electricity through every nerve ending. Hot water. Soft skin. The taste of her on my tongue.
This is real.
This is the only real thing left.
I back her against the tile wall. She shivers at the cold, but her legs wrap around my waist when I lift her. My wound screams in protest. I ignore it.
"Dante"
I silence her with another kiss. Deeper this time. My tongue slides against hers, and she moans into my mouth. Her nails dig into my shoulders.
"I need you," I breathe against her lips.
Marina's moan vibrates against my lips.
I grip her thighs and lift her higher against the tile. Water cascades down her back, pooling where our bodies press together. Her legs lock around my waist, ankles crossing at the base of my spine.
"Hold on to me," I growl.
