The shower was definitely big enough for two people—hell, it was big enough for a small party. Multiple shower heads created this warm, misty environment that felt like being inside a cloud made of heat and possibility.
When I stepped in, the steam hit me like a wall of warmth, and then I saw Madison fully, and my brain just... stopped.
Water poured down her body like it had a personal vendetta against my self-control, turning her into something that shouldn't exist outside a fever dream. Her hair was slicked back, dripping, every strand plastered to skin that looked too flawless to be real—like some divine sculptor got bored and decided to show off.
Her cheekbones looked carved from something sharper than bone, and every drop of water that slid down her neck, between her breasts, and over the taut line of her stomach felt like it was taunting me—drawing invisible arrows straight to sin.
