Zane grabbed my hips, roughly, pulling me closer to him until our bodies were touching and he pressed his lips to mine. His movements were deliberate and precise, each gesture executed with an almost surgical precision, as if he were navigating through a delicate dance. In contrast, my own actions were driven by a restless urgency, fueled by a deep-seated need that propelled me forward, each step imbued with a sense of desperation and haste.
I despised the sensation of vulnerability, yet in this moment, it felt insignificant. Zane shared that sentiment as well.
With a surge of desire, I enveloped his neck with my arms as he advanced, guiding me until my back met the cool, slick surface of the shower wall. A startled gasp escaped my lips, the chill of the tiles biting at my skin. But bef
