I reach out and pull her to me.
“Cristiano!” She gasps as the hot water hits her, immediately plastering her sweater and leggings to her body. I steady her with my hands on her waist, feeling her curves through the soaked fabric.
“Can’t say it?” I ask, water running over both our lips. “Then I’ll say it for you. I never want to leave this moment.”
She looks up at me, water streaming down her face, her eyes wide and stormy.
I lower my head and kiss her.
She makes a sound of surprise that turns into surrender, and then she’s kissing me back with a fierceness that steals my breath. Her hands slide up into my wet hair, pulling me closer,her nails scraping against my scalp in a way that makes me groan into her mouth.
I’m backing her against the tile, my hands on her waist, my body covering hers while the water streams over both of us. Mina in my arms, kissing me like she needs this as much as I do.
I break the kiss just long enough to peel her soaked sweater and T-shirt over her head. It hits the shower floor with a wet slap, forgotten immediately as I take in the sight of her. Her bra is sheer and clinging from the water, and I can see her nipples dark beneath the wet fabric. For a moment, I’m mesmerized by the rapid rise and fall of her chest as she pants.
“So perfect,” I murmur against her throat, kissing the pulse point that’s fluttering wildly. “So fucking perfect, Mina.”
My hands slide down her sides, feeling every curve through the wet fabric of her leggings. She’s trembling as I keep touching her, kissing her, showing her that this is real.
“We shouldn’t do this,” she breathes against my mouth, but her hands are in my hair, holding me close, contradicting her words.
“We are doing this.” I kiss her again, deeper, claiming her mouth with a thoroughness that makes her whimper. “You’re here with me, Mina. Kissing me like you’ve been wanting to for days.”
My hand slides between her thighs, rubbing her through the wet fabric of her leggings, and she gasps against my mouth, her whole body arching at the contact.
“I’m not trying to trap you,” I tell her, working my hand against her, feeling the heat of her even through the layers of wet cloth. “I’m just touching you. Showing you how much I want you. How perfect this could be if you’d just let yourself have it.”
Her head falls back against the tile, and I watch water run down her throat and her eyes close.
I work my hand beneath the waistband of her leggings, then beneath her underwear, and when I find her slick and swollen, my knees nearly buckle.
“God, Mina,” I breathe. “You’re so wet for me.”
She moans my name, gripping my shoulders tight enough to bruise. “Cristiano.”
“I know.” I circle her clit with gentle pressure. “I know, sweetheart. I’ve got you.”
Her hand slides down between us, and when her fingers wrap around my cock I nearly lose my mind. The touch is unpracticed and uncertain, her grip clenching, hesitant and uneven, like she’s not sure what she’s doing. But God, it feels good. Her hand on me, skin to skin, finally touching me the way I’ve dreamed about.
“Yes,” I groan against her neck, my hips bucking involuntarily into her grip. “Touch me, Mina. Just like that. God, just like that.”
She tightens her grip experimentally, stroking me with uneven movements that tell me she’s distracted by what I’m doing to her, the way I’m circling her clit with steadily increasing pressure. Her strokes become more ragged as I push two fingers inside her, and she cries out, her back arching off the tile.
I have to brace my free hand against the wall beside her head to keep myself upright, because the combination of her hand on me and the sight of her coming apart is almost more than I can handle. My side is starting to ache from the position, from the tension coiling through my body, but I don’t care. I would stand here until I collapsed if it meant I could keep touching her like this.
Mina’s thighs are trembling, and she rocks her hips against my hand, chasing sensation with an abandon that tells me she’s forgotten to be scared of me.
She makes a frustrated sound in her throat, and then suddenly she’s pulling back from me just enough to yank her soaked leggings and underwear down with desperate, impatient hands. She kicks them away without ceremony.
Then she’s pressed against me again, completely bare except for her translucent bra, her skin hot and slick against mine.
My Mina, naked in my arms, in my house. The life I’ve been anticipating for as long as I can remember has finally begun.
I slide my hand between her thighs again, this time with nothing between us, and thrust two fingers into her tight, slick heat. She cries out, her back arching, her hand tightening around my cock.
“This is what you want, isn’t it?” I ask, curling my fingers to find that spot that makes her gasp. “This is what you’ve been afraid to admit. That you want me. That you want this. That you want us to be a family.”
“Yes,” she sobs, and I don’t know if she’s answering my question or just begging for more. “Yes, God, Cristiano, please.”
