The rainfall showerhead inside the bathroom dumped water like a tropical storm.
Aria stood under the spray, hands braced against the slick black tiles, trying to catch her breath in the steam.
"Damien," she gasped. "We have to go. Dinner."
"Dinner is at seven," Damien murmured, stepping in behind her. He was a solid wall of heat, water sluicing down his broad shoulders and over her own skin. "It's six-fifteen. We have time."
His hand slid down her wet stomach, skipping her hip to dive straight between her thighs.
"Damien!" Aria yelped, her knees buckling as he found her instantly.
"Still sensitive," he noted, his voice a low vibration in her ear. He didn't stop. He started a slow, rhythmic stroke that used the water to devastating effect.
"We need... to dry off," Aria argued, though she was already leaning back against him, her head falling onto his shoulder. "We're…going to be late."
