The rush of the water was now only the backdrop to that silent, sensual language they spoke through each other's bodies. Sloane's palms rested on the tile, her fingers slightly tensed as Lennox pressed against her from behind—hot, firm, and yet attentive. Her skin no longer trembled from fear, only from anticipation, from the thrill of what Lennox's hands and intentions promised.
Lennox held her tightly at the waist. His other hand slid along her thigh, slowly, with such steady movement it felt as though he had known every curve of her for centuries. His mouth traced her neck—sometimes with small kisses, sometimes with mere breaths, and at other times with bites that sent emotional shockwaves through Sloane like lightning beneath her skin.
And then his hand finally reached the point wher
