Scáthach swallowed hard, his eyes fixed on her as silence hung between them. Steam continued to rise, further blurring the outlines of the bathroom, yet nothing seemed clearer than her expression—a blend of shyness and surrender, of curiosity and fear. Her hand remained on his wrist, her fingers gripping with a strength that spoke volumes.
Strax didn't pull his fingers away. Instead, he kept them there, feeling the pulse beneath the skin and the humid heat that promised something more than mere cleansing. He watched the flush spreading across her neck, her nipples hardening just above the water's surface, and her ragged breathing making her breasts rise and fall.
"Yes," she repeated, her voice firmer now, as if convincing herself. "If you're going to do this… do it right."
