"Details," she murmured, then made another pleased sound as his hands worked the shampoo through her hair. "Oh, you're so good at that."
"I have many talents," he said, his Scottish accent more pronounced as it always was when he was relaxed or aroused or both. "Hair washing is just one of them."
"What are the others?" she asked, eyes closed as he massaged her scalp.
"Well, there's my ability to spot ugly floor lamps and pay too much for them."
"That's a talent?"
"Absolutely. Not everyone can spot a truly hideous lamp at fifty paces. It takes a special eye."
"A special something, anyway," she agreed, then squeaked as he tickled her ribs in retaliation.
What started as playful soon shifted to something more as they took turns soaping each other's bodies. Din's hands were thorough, and Fenella returned the favor with equal attention to detail.
"You missed a spot," she said, running her soapy hand over her breast.
"Did I?" His voice had gone rough. "How careless of me."
"Very," she agreed, then gasped as he cupped her breast and thumbed her nipple.
"Can't miss such an important spot." He repeated on the other side.
He backed her against the shower wall and bent his head to twirl his tongue over her nipple. When he nipped it lightly, she jerked, and he laved the small hurt away and then flicked over it with the tip of his tongue.
She gasped when he rubbed two fingers over her entrance, and when he dropped to his knees in front of her, she threaded her fingers in his hair.
He picked up her leg and placed her foot on his shoulder, opening her to his gaze. She should have felt scandalized but didn't. There was nothing she felt like hiding from him, nothing she wanted to hold back. They were one.
He plunged his tongue into her, and when she rewarded him with a throaty moan, he switched to licking her clit.
Her knees buckled, and she would have collapsed if he hadn't been holding on to her, and then she was climaxing and barely aware of how she was still upright.
Suddenly, she found herself turned around, and her hands instinctively braced against the marble.
He wrapped an arm around her waist and entered her with one swift thrust, filling her so completely, so deliciously, that tears prickled her eyes.
What a strange time to get teary-eyed, but Fenella didn't care. Din accepted her the way she was, and nothing she did could turn him off or bother him.
He started pounding into her fast and hard, the slapping sounds of their bodies against each other echoing in the enclosed shower.
Another orgasm rose within her, like a wave rushing to break against the shore, and when it crested and she yelled his name, he climaxed as well, filling her with his essence.
"Din..." she breathed.
"I love the way you say my name," he murmured against her neck.
She'd expected him to bite her as their passion crested like he usually did, but he didn't. Not this time.
It was a shame, really, and not just because she craved the venom trip. She could use the therapeutic effect that would have erased all the aches and pains from a long day of packing and trekking.
Fenella couldn't help but make a small sound of disappointment, but as her mind cleared, she remembered that Din had bitten her that morning, and usually he couldn't produce venom more than once a day. Besides, she would have blacked out, and they couldn't have enjoyed the bathtub together.
"I wish you could have bitten me," she said, running her hands through his wet hair. "I love your bites."
"I know you do." He kissed the spot he usually bit and withdrew his shaft. "You are a venom junkie."
"Your venom junkie," she corrected, then squealed as he turned her around and swept her up in his arms. "What are you doing?"
