Chapter 77
The bathroom is just as surprising as the rest of Hiro’s home. The walls are smooth slate with veins of dark marble running through them like rivers, illuminated by warm, golden light. A rainfall showerhead sits high above, nestled in a carved wooden frame that gives the entire space a serene, natural feel, as if the room were carved into the heart of a mountain.
I turn on the water, and the rainfall shower comes to life, soft streams trickling down like a summer rain. The sound alone is calming. As the steam rises and the water heats, I catch Wake’s expression—his usual brooding demeanor softens as he reaches out, letting his hand hover under the spray before fully immersing it.
The sight of him, standing bare under the golden light, his powerful muscles gleaming in the steam-filled room, takes my breath away. There’s something otherworldly about him in this space, like a mythical creature blending with the modern world, and it makes me grin.
He hums low in his chest, the sound reverberating around the stone walls, "It’s warm… Why is that so pleasing?"
I bite my lip, suppressing a giggle. "Cozy, isn’t it?"
He gives a small, amused huff, shaking his head slightly. "That isn’t a word I would ever use. But… perhaps it is accurate."
I peel off my clothes and step into the cascade of water, shivering as the warmth envelops me. The water is like liquid silk, cascading over my skin, melting away the tension that’s been building since…well, since forever, really. I glance back at Wake, feeling a playful tug in my chest.
“Come on, don’t leave me all wet and warm and alone.”
He chuckles, and with a swift motion, the swim trunks are gone. His powerful body is a sight to behold, carved from sinew and strength, his skin smooth and bronzed from the sun and sea. He steps into the shower, and I watch with fascination as his entire body seems to relax in a way I’ve never seen before. His head falls back, water streaming over his face, and he runs his fingers through his dark hair, letting out a groan of pure bliss.
“Dagon’s Ghost, this is nice,” he mutters, the tension in his voice ebbing away as the water works its magic.
I grab a decadent-looking bottle of body wash from the ledge. The bottle is elegant, covered in Japanese characters I can’t quite read, but the scent that wafts from it is deep and heady—like dark berries crushed underfoot in a forest, mingled with the freshness of wild woods after a rainstorm. It’s perfect for him.
“Give me your hand,” I say, my voice a little breathless. He extends it without hesitation, and I pour a dollop of the thick, iridescent gel into my palm. The scent explodes as it touches his skin, rich and decadent, like something forbidden.
I start rubbing the soap into his skin, working it up into a frothy lather. His skin feels like warm marble under my hands, his muscles shifting beneath the surface as I slide the bubbles up his arm. He’s watching me closely, his gaze heavy, intent, as if even this mundane act of cleaning has become something sacred.
I smile up at him and tease, dabbing some froth on the tip of his nose. "You look like you’ve never seen bubbles before."
He blinks, genuinely perplexed, then sniffs the froth on his nose before wiping it away. "None like these," he admits.
I laugh softly, continuing to rub him down. The bubbles swirl around us, catching the golden light in the steam-filled room. I trace my hands over his chest, the soap sliding easily over the hard planes of his pecs, down to his sculpted abs. The scent of the body wash mingles with the warm air and his natural salt-and-brine scent, creating something utterly intoxicating.
Kneeling down, I begin lathering his legs. His skin gleams under the rainfall, each muscle flexing subtly under my touch as I work the soap along his thighs and down to his calves. I glance up at him with a mischievous grin, and his eyes darken, following my every move.
His erection is hard and proud, impossible to ignore, and as I gently lather up his legs, I can't help but feel the heat radiating from his body. His gaze never leaves mine, full of intent, his breath coming slower, deeper.
“I was under the impression that the point of this was to get clean?” he rumbles, amusement curling around the desire in his voice.
I grin up at him, my hands moving higher. “Oh, it is. But it’s more fun when you’re nice and dirty first.”
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