Chapter 14: Steam Room Temptation
The master bathroom was a cavern of steam and sharp, clean scents. Katy stood under the spray, the hot water needling against Garrett’s broad back. She ran his hands, her hands now, over the hard planes of his chest, the defined ridges of his abdomen. Lather slid over his skin, a slick, white foam.
She left the shower door open a precise inch, a calculated sliver of visibility into the bedroom.
A low, throaty moan escaped her, a sound she practiced, deepening it until it vibrated in Garrett’s chest. It wasn’t a performance of pleasure, but of power. In her mind, it wasn’t water cascading down his skin, but the heat of Dominique’s submission. She imagined the weight of this body pressing down, the sheer physical authority it would wield. Her fingers trailed lower through the suds, tracing the unfamiliar, assertive shape of him. A possessive smile touched her lips. Tonight, she would learn the precise mechanics of that authority.
In the kitchen, the sound of the moan cut through the quiet apartment like a physical thing. Garrett flinched, the knife in his hand slipping against a bell pepper. He stared at the thin line of red welling on Katy’s finger, a bright, shocking pain. He sucked at the cut, the coppery taste of her blood filling his mouth.
The water shut off. A few minutes later, Katy emerged from the hallway, a cloud of steam billowing behind her. She was wrapped in a towel, his hair dark and wet, plastered to his forehead. Her skin glowed.
“All yours,” she said, her voice relaxed. She dropped the towel on the floor without a second glance, standing naked in the middle of the living room as she rifled through a gym bag for clothes. The casualness of the act was a violation. He turned away, focusing on the sizzle of onions in the pan.
“You’re really going through with it,” he said, not a question.
“Of course I am.” She pulled on a pair of dark jeans that hugged his lean hips. “It’s a date. You set it up. I’m just following through.” She found a gray henley and pulled it over his head. The soft cotton molded to his shoulders. “Besides, after those texts? I’d be a monster to stand her up.”
He heard the grin in her voice. He kept his back to her, jabbing at the vegetables in the pan. “Just remember it’s my life you’re playing with.”
“Our life,” she corrected lightly. “For now.”
She finished dressing and came to lean against the kitchen island, watching him. He could feel her gaze on the back of his neck. “You okay? You seem… tense.”
He finally turned to face her. She looked like him, but better. There was a confidence in the set of his shoulders, a light in his blue eyes that was entirely Katy’s. It was deeply unsettling. “I’m fine. Just having a thrilling night in with a stir-fry and whatever’s on TV.”
“Sounds wild.” She picked up his phone from the counter, swiping it open. “Don’t wait up.”
“Katy.” The word stopped her as she moved toward the door. She glanced back. “Tell me everything. When you get back. I mean it.”
A slow, wicked smile spread across his face—her smile on his features. “It's a promise. Every. Little. Thing.” She gave a two-fingered salute and pulled the door shut behind her.
The click of the lock was definitive. The apartment was suddenly, profoundly silent. The only sounds were the faint hiss from the stove and the frantic beat of his own heart in Katy’s chest. He turned off the burner, his appetite gone. The stir-fry looked like a colorful mess.
He poured three fingers of whiskey into a heavy tumbler and carried it to the couch. The television flickered to life, a wash of meaningless color and noise. He didn’t see it. He saw the preview image Dominique had sent. He felt the phantom echo of the dampness in Katy’s underwear from the office. He heard the low, practiced moan from the shower.
He took a long, burning swallow of the whiskey. The liquid warmth did nothing to settle the cold, tight knot in his stomach. He was alone, trapped in the quiet, sterile shell of his cousin’s life, while she was out there, wearing his skin, living his promises. The night stretched before him, vast and empty, a prison of his own waiting.