The water continued to spray in a jagged, freezing arc, drumming against the slate tiles and turning the small shower enclosure into a chaotic storm of mist and noise. Elena gasped, the shock of the cold hitting her skin, but the heat of Julian’s hands on her waist burned through the chill.
He didn’t pull away. His fingers tightened, pulling her hips flush against his. The wet silk of her robe had vanished as a garment, becoming a transparent film that highlighted every curve, the dark, hard peaks of her n*****s pressing insistently against the fabric.
Julian’s breathing grew heavy, a ragged sound that competed with the roar of the water.
"You're soaking wet," he rasped.
"I am," she whispered, her voice trembling. "The water... it's everywhere."
"I can't see a damn thing except you,"
