Steam is already clinging to the air, thick and curling from the shower Lucien turned on minutes ago. The soft hiss of water fills the tiled room, and the heat seems to press in from all sides.
I am standing barefoot, arms wrapped loosely. I can hear my pulse loudly in my ears. I am not sure if it is the temperature or him making me feel flushed.
Lucien leans casually against the counter, sleeves rolled up, watching me like I am the only thing worth his time. That look alone can melt concrete.
"Okay," he pushes off the counter. "You are either gonna let me help, or you are gonna stand there till you pass out again."
I shoot him a stare that isn't half as sharp as I want. "I told you, I can handle myself."
"Sure you can," he says, his voice a blend of teasing and heavier. Lucien steps closer, his presence swallowing the small space between us. "The thing is, I am not asking."
My breath catches when his fingers brush the hem of my sports bra. I want to stop him...tell him no, tell him to back off, but my body refuses to move, and my lips are sealed. He doesn't yank or rush. He slides the fabric upward, slowly enough I can still stop him many times.
"You are shaking," Lucien murmurs; he looks into my eyes before trailing down.
"That's..." I swallow, forcing the words out. "That's because I am feeling cold."
Lucien hums like he doesn't believe me, like maybe he knows exactly why my knees are feeling weak. He peels away my bra, leaving goosebumps in its wake. I hug my arms over my chest; I don't know why. Either modesty or the air feels electric, charged with something I am not ready to name.
Lucien's gaze dips, then rises again, and he smirks...slowly, wickedly. "Relax. I have seen you before."
"That doesn't mean you will see again."I shoot back in a sharp voice.
"I meant the other women," he says simply. I don't know why, but I didn't like it when he said that. A strange anger surges through my veins.
He crouches slightly, fingers hooking at my waistband. Every movement is deliberate, like he is giving me time to object. I don't. As the sweatpants slide down my legs, I feel his knuckles skim the sides of my thigh, and a shiver rips through me despite the steam surrounding us.
"Step out," Lucien instructs me in a low voice now.
I did it, barely breathing. Now he reaches for my thong and slides his fingers on the sides and slowly shoves it down. Now I don't know how to hide myself anymore. Lucien straightens, his face unreadable for a beat before he reaches for the shower door.
As steam pours out, he guides me forward with a hand at the small of my back, just like always—firm and impossibly icy cold.
His cold touch sends heat curling deep in my stomach. The water hits my skin, and a small gasp escapes my lips. He doesn't move away, staying right at the edge of the stall. His eyes track the water sliding down my shoulders, my breasts, my ribs, and then between my legs.
I tilt my head into the spray, trying to let it wash away the tension. It is not working with him here.
The scent of the soap mixes with the heat surging between us and the sound of water, making my world hazy. I am not letting him slide his hand between my legs.
"You are always this stubborn." Lucien asks, his thumbs rubbing slow circles over my shoulder blades.
"Only with people who think they own me." I shoot back, looking into his eyes.
His hands stop for a moment, then resume gently. "Maybe I just take care of what is mine."
I shake my head. "I am not..."
"You are," he interrupts. He clenches his jaw and his eyes with a look that makes my pussy twist.
I swallow hard. "Lucien, I don't know anything about you, and you have been keeping secrets from me since you bought me." I take a deep breath. "See how it sounds? You bought me. Like a commodity. We didn't meet like normal people. Hi. Hello. Exchange names and all."
He stops and steps back enough to tilt his head; water is dripping from his hairline onto his jaw. I swallow hard. He is looking into my eyes like nothing else in the world exists.
Lucien's back is already pressed to the cool tile, the heat from the water chasing goosebumps across my skin. Lucien is standing way too close, his shirt clinging to him from the spray, his eyes stuck on me like he is trying to memorize me.
"Hello, I am Lucien Moretti." He says in his low voice, and his eyes are still on mine. He is giving me nowhere to hide. "And your name?"
I blink; every muscle in my body is caught between fight and something else entirely. My fingers curl at my sides, nails biting into my palms. "What are you doing?" I ask him, words coming out of my mouth breathier than I want.
Lucien shrugs, water sliding down the sharp line of his jaw. "Doing what you think is lacking between us."
I narrow my eyes, trying to keep myself steady. "And why are you doing this now?"
"Because," he says, and smirks. "I'd like to know the name of a girl who looks like a goddess of water right now."
"You didn't answer me." His voice is once again low and dominating. "Your name."
I swallow, my throat tight. "Anaya."
"Anaya," he repeats, like he is tasting it. "Figures." His smile deepens just slightly.
"What is that supposed to mean?"
He smirks. "I think it's enough for today." Then he let water rinse all over my body.