I move down, running the loofah along her stomach, then lower, to the apex of her thighs.
She parts her legs slightly, granting me access.
I clean her swiftly, my jaw clenched tight, before kneeling to wash her legs.
By the time I’m finished, the air is thick with something more.
I rinse her one last time, then reach to shut off the water—
A small hand wraps around my wrist.
“Now let me wash you.”
She’s smiling. At me.
My chest tightens.
I nod, and her smile widens.
“There’s a bench right there,” she says. “You’ll have to sit.”
Of course.
She barely reaches my chest—tiny compared to my six-foot-five frame.
I sit, letting her take control.
She washes my hair first, fingers massaging my scalp with slow, deliberate movements.
For the first time in years, I relax.
My muscles loosen. My breathing steadies.
She runs soapy hands over my body, mapping my inked skin.
Every touch hums with warmth, with electricity, with something I can’t name.
I tense slightly, fighting the shiver threatening to escape.
She notices.
She doesn’t call me out.
She simply grabs my hand and pulls me up when she’s finished.
The water is still running. The steam still thick. My boxers still on.
But I feel clean for the first time in thirteen years.
Chapter 11
Selene
I want him.
It’s insane.
I just met him. I haven’t done anything with any man before. But this isn’t just a man.
