He knelt. The water sluiced over his broad shoulders and down his back as he pressed his mouth to the soft skin just below her navel. Alexis’s fingers threaded through his wet hair, not guiding, just holding on. The spray pounded her chest, her closed eyes, her parted lips.
The first hint that she wasn’t alone came from the scent—a familiar cologne, earthy and warm, cutting through the eucalyptus. Then, the gentle brush of fingertips against the small of her back. alexis fawx shower surprise
“Cancelled,” his voice was low, close to her ear. “And you looked like you needed help unwinding.” He knelt
She turned the shower handle without looking. The pipes groaned once, then surrendered a torrent of steam. Alexis stepped under the spray before it had even fully warmed, gasping as the cold shock turned into a slow, melting relief. She tilted her head back, letting the water hammer the knots out of her shoulders. The spray pounded her chest, her closed eyes,
Later—minutes or an hour, she couldn’t tell—they sat together on the shower floor, the water now lukewarm, her head resting against his shoulder. He had peeled off his ruined shirt and tossed it over the curtain rod.
All she wanted was water. Hot, scalding, skin-prickling water.
He knelt. The water sluiced over his broad shoulders and down his back as he pressed his mouth to the soft skin just below her navel. Alexis’s fingers threaded through his wet hair, not guiding, just holding on. The spray pounded her chest, her closed eyes, her parted lips.
The first hint that she wasn’t alone came from the scent—a familiar cologne, earthy and warm, cutting through the eucalyptus. Then, the gentle brush of fingertips against the small of her back.
“Cancelled,” his voice was low, close to her ear. “And you looked like you needed help unwinding.”
She turned the shower handle without looking. The pipes groaned once, then surrendered a torrent of steam. Alexis stepped under the spray before it had even fully warmed, gasping as the cold shock turned into a slow, melting relief. She tilted her head back, letting the water hammer the knots out of her shoulders.
Later—minutes or an hour, she couldn’t tell—they sat together on the shower floor, the water now lukewarm, her head resting against his shoulder. He had peeled off his ruined shirt and tossed it over the curtain rod.
All she wanted was water. Hot, scalding, skin-prickling water.