I shove at his chest, water running down both our faces, my shirt already plastered to my skin.
“You’re insane.”
He presses me gently against the shower wall. The humor still lingers at the corners of his mouth, but his eyes shift. “You have no idea.”
My breath catches.
Just like that, the moment turns.
I watch his jaw tighten as his gaze drops to my chest, my soaked shirt clinging to every inch of me.
I curl my fingers into his wet T-shirt. “Then show me.”
And he does.
Clothes are stripped fast—urgent and slippery with water. My top peels off. His shirt hits the tile with a wet slap. Jeans are tugged down, underwear lost somewhere in the steam and rush.
His mouth finds mine in a kiss that’s anything but soft.
My back presses against the cold tile. He’s everywhere at once. Hands, mouth, chest against mine, water running down his spine as he lifts me again and slides inside me in one slow, devastating thrust.
I cry out, fingers sinking into his shoulders.
The shower pounds around us, heat and wet and skin, but I only feel him.
He moves inside me with control, with purpose, with that familiar tension that always makes me fall harder.
I cling to him the entire time.
He groans against my neck. “Piper—God—”
“Don’t stop,” I breathe. “Please don’t stop.”
We move together, messy but perfect, steam fogging the glass and our bodies sliding with each thrust. His forehead rests against mine. Our mouths break apart only to find each other again. His hand grips the back of my neck like he needs the anchor too.
It’s not just sex.
It never is with him.
It’severything.
I feel it in my chest long before the pleasure catches up to the rest of me.
When we fall apart, we do it together.
After, he holds me under the water as his mouth finds my temple. When I finally lift my head to look at him, his smile is soft.
“Still think I’m only good for DIY?”
I laugh breathlessly. “Maybe also for showers.”
“Hmm. I’ll add that to the résumé.” He presses a kiss to the tip of my nose and sets me back on my feet. “Come on, violin girl. I’ve still got work to do. Try not to distract me this time.”
Epilogue
Ten years later
Griffin
