"Lock the door," she whispered.
The words slipped out of her mouth like a challenge, soft yet sharp enough to cut through the tension that hung thick in the air. He didn't hesitate, just turned, clicked the lock, and faced her again, eyes darkened by something between lust and danger.
The bathroom was already fogged up, steam curling around the mirror, wrapping them both in a haze of heat and temptation. The sound of running water filled the silence, the shower hissing steadily as if urging them closer.
She backed up slowly until her bare back brushed against the cool tiled wall. "You've been looking at me all evening," she teased, voice dripping with mock innocence. "Say what's really on your mind."
He stepped closer, undoing the buttons of his shirt one by one. "You already know," he murmured. "You've been driving me crazy since dinner."
She tilted her chin, lips curving. "Then stop talking."
That was all the permission he needed. In a heartbeat, his mouth was on hers, hot and hungry, tasting of want and danger. The kiss deepened. Slow at first, then rougher, as if they were both fighting to breathe but refusing to let go. Her hands slipped beneath his open shirt, fingertips tracing the hard lines of his chest, the rise and fall of his breath.
When the kiss broke, she reached behind him and turned the shower handle fully. A spray of hot water poured down, soaking them instantly. She gasped at the sudden warmth, her silk dress clinging to her skin, turning translucent.
He looked at her like he was seeing something forbidden, something he shouldn't touch but couldn't resist. "You're trouble," he muttered, voice rough.
"Then sin with me," she whispered, stepping under the stream.
Water cascaded down her face, her neck, her chest. He watched, transfixed, as her fingers slid the straps of her dress down, the fabric pooling around her feet. For a moment, neither of them moved. The air between them pulsed with heat, the scent of soap and steam mingling with something darker. Desire.
He joined her under the water, his hands finding her waist, his body pressing close enough for her to feel the pounding rhythm of his heartbeat. Their mouths met again, this time wetter, fiercer, the shower washing over their tangled limbs.
Her back hit the cold tile, but she didn't care. Every touch, every sigh, every drop of water against her skin blurred into a feverish rhythm. His hands moved with purpose, exploring, teasing, demanding, while her nails scraped against his shoulders, leaving trails that burned even under the water.
"You shouldn't be here," she whispered, though her voice was weak, betraying the truth that she didn't want him to stop.
"I couldn't stay away," he breathed into her ear, lips grazing the edge of her jaw. "Not tonight."
Steam swirled around them, thick and hazy, the rest of the world dissolving until only the sound of their ragged breathing filled the room.
Every movement was a confession. Every touch, a sin neither of them could repent for.
When it was over, the shower still ran, steady, relentless, as if trying to wash away what they'd done. But nothing could cleanse that kind of desire, the kind that left marks you couldn't see.
He stepped back first, water dripping down his chest, his gaze soft now but still dangerous. "You know this changes everything."
She smiled faintly, brushing wet hair from her face. "Good," she said. "Let it."
Outside, the city hummed with life. Inside that steamy bathroom, two souls stood bare, not just in body, but in every sinful secret they'd just shared.
He reached out, brushing his thumb across her lower lip, tracing the tremble that lingered there. Her breath caught, chest rising and falling in shallow rhythm as the water continued to pour down, wrapping them in warmth. The look in his eyes was dangerous, hungry still, as if he hadn't had nearly enough.
Her back met the wall again when he stepped forward, closing the distance between them. The water rolled off his shoulders, beading down his skin before mingling with hers. She tilted her chin up, lips parted in a silent invitation. He didn't hesitate. His mouth found her neck, moving slowly, deliberately, leaving trails of heat in his wake.
She exhaled shakily, fingers threading through his soaked hair, pulling him closer. The sound of the shower drowned everything else, the noise of the world, the thundering of their hearts. There was only touch and breath, a rhythm neither of them wanted to end.
He murmured her name once, low and rough, against her skin. She answered with a sigh that trembled into a soft laugh, lost somewhere between pleasure and disbelief. "We're really doing this," she whispered.
"Too late to stop now," he replied, voice husky, the words brushing against her collarbone.
His hands roamed again, up her sides, across her back, finding every place she shivered. Every brush of his fingers felt like a claim. Her pulse quickened, a flutter beneath his touch that matched his own heartbeat. The air grew heavier with steam and sin.
When their eyes met again, it wasn't just lust, it was hunger, raw and consuming. She leaned forward, closing the space between them with a kiss that reignited everything. Their mouths collided, desperate and slick with water. He pressed her harder against the wall, the sound of skin against tile echoing through the small space.
She broke the kiss only to catch her breath, her forehead resting against his. Water dripped between them, down her throat, over his lips. He followed its path with his mouth, tasting her, drawing a gasp from deep within her chest.
Her hands slid down his back, tracing the curve of his spine until he shuddered. He caught her wrist mid-motion, holding it above her head, their bodies pressed tight. His breath hit her ear. "Say it," he whispered.
"Say what?" she asked, though her voice trembled with anticipation.
"That you want this. That you want me."
Her response came as a whisper, fragile but certain. "I already do."
That broke him. His restraint vanished, replaced by something raw and primal. Every movement after that was desperate, hungry. The shower turned into their witness, each droplet sliding down skin that burned hotter than the water itself.
Minutes or hours, maybe, blurred into a feverish haze. The walls fogged, their breaths mingled, their rhythm relentless. It wasn't love. It wasn't tenderness. It was need, pure and consuming, and it left no room for thought.
When the water finally cooled, neither of them moved. She rested her head against his chest, listening to his unsteady heartbeat beneath her ear. He brushed his fingers down her arm, slow and lingering, memorizing the shape of her in silence.
Eventually, she spoke, voice faint but sure. "If this is what sin feels like," she murmured, "I don't ever want to be forgiven."
He smiled against her hair, a quiet, dangerous sound. "Then we're both damned."
The shower hissed its last warm breath before cooling completely, but neither of them flinched. The heat between them was enough to burn through the chill.