CHAPTER 72: BATHROOM CHRONICLES (R-18)

The shower was definitely big enough for two people—hell, it was big enough for a small party. Multiple shower heads created this warm, misty environment that felt like being inside a cloud made of heat and possibility.

When I stepped in, the steam hit me like a wall of warmth, and then I saw Madison fully, and my brain just... stopped.

Water poured down her body like it had a personal vendetta against my self-control, turning her into something that shouldn’t exist outside a fever dream. Her hair was slicked back, dripping, every strand plastered to skin that looked too flawless to be real—like some divine sculptor got bored and decided to show off.

Her cheekbones looked carved from something sharper than bone, and every drop of water that slid down her neck, between her breasts, and over the taut line of her stomach felt like it was taunting me—drawing invisible arrows straight to sin.

Her skin was flushed with heat, glowing under the cascade like every inch of her had been painted wet on purpose. Her curves—Jesus, those curves—shined with a soft glisten that made it impossible to look away: the way her shoulders led into the tight dip of her waist, the slope of her hips flaring out like temptation had a shape and it wore her face. And then she turned.

Just a small movement, casual even, but it hit like a punch to the chest. Her eyes locked onto mine, bright with want but edged with something deeper—darker, magnetic.

Her lips parted slightly, the kind of part that said more than words ever could, and droplets clung to her lashes like they couldn’t bear to fall. And right then, I swear—she wasn’t a girl anymore.

She was a damn problem. My favorite kind.

"About time," she said with that signature Madison smirk, running her hands through her wet hair. "I was starting to think you’d gotten shy on me."

"Never shy," I replied, stepping closer. "Just appreciating the view."

"Mmm, good answer," she purred, her voice already breathless from the steam and heat. "You gonna keep staring, or are you gonna touch me?"

"Hi," I said softly, my hands finding her waist like they belonged there.

"Hi yourself, baby," she whispered back, pressing closer until our bodies were almost touching. Steam swirled around us like we were in our own private world.

Her skin was slick and warm under my fingers, and I could feel every breath she took, every slight movement as she pressed closer. The water continued to rain down on both of us, creating this intimate bubble where nothing existed except Madison and me and the heat building between us.

"God, Peter," she breathed, her hands trailing up my chest, leaving trails of fire despite the water. "I’ve been thinking about this since I woke up."

When she looked up at me with those dark eyes, pupils dilated with want, I knew we were past the point of no return.

"I love you," she said, her voice barely audible over the sound of the water, but filled with so much emotion it made my chest tight.

"I love you too," I replied, pulling her closer until our bodies were pressed together, skin against skin, heat against heat. "So fucking much, Madison."

What happened next was going to change everything.

Because when I kissed her — there, under the rain of hot water and swirling steam — it wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t lust-driven or desperate. It was claiming. Like I was reminding her, and maybe even myself, that this wasn’t just about skin on skin. This was ours.

Her lips were soft, parting under mine like she’d been waiting for this exact moment to give in completely. "Peter," she whispered against my mouth, and hearing my name like that made something primal wake up inside me.

My hands slid down her slick waist, over the swell of her hips, finding the perfect grip as I pressed her back gently against the warm marble wall.

She gasped as the coolness hit her skin, arching slightly into me. "Oh, fuck," she breathed, and I used that moment — that vulnerability — to kiss down her jaw, slow and deliberate. Her head tilted, eyes fluttering closed, hands digging into my shoulders as I traced my mouth down her neck.

"You’re mine," I whispered against her pulse, feeling it flutter beneath my lips.

Her breath caught, and when she spoke, her voice was thick with emotion and desire. "Always, baby. Always yours."

That word did something to me.

I pulled back just enough to look at her — really look at her. Her soaked lashes, flushed cheeks, the way her chest rose and fell in rhythm with her need. She was trembling, not from cold, but from tension she couldn’t hold anymore.

"Put your hands above your head," I said softly.

She blinked, startled, then smiled that wicked smile that drove me crazy. "Yes, sir," she whispered, obeying without hesitation.

Fingers tangled into her own wet hair, wrists pressed gently to the wall, chest exposed. Vulnerable. Willing. Trusting.

"You’re so beautiful like this," I murmured, and she bit her lip, her breath coming faster.

I leaned in again, brushing my nose along her collarbone before kissing the space between her breasts, feeling the way she shivered at every point of contact.

"Peter, please," she whispered, her voice already getting that needy edge that made me lose my mind.

The water streamed down our bodies, but all I could feel was her. The heat of her skin. The way she softened when I kissed her. The tension in her thighs when I touched her — not harshly, but like I knew her, like I’d mapped every nerve ending and memorized what made her melt.

I let my fingers glide between her thighs, slow and patient, teasing. She let out a choked moan, hips twitching forward just once before I pinned her in place with my other hand on her stomach.

"Not yet," I said, voice low, thick. "You’ll take your time with me."

"Please..." Her voice was already wrecked, and we’d barely started. "Peter, I need—"

I loved that tone in her voice. Half-beg, half-worship. "What do you need, baby?"

"You," she gasped. "Just you."

So I leaned in, kissing the words right off her mouth again — but deeper this time. Tongues tangled, teeth clashing just slightly. I gripped her thighs and lifted her effortlessly, letting her wrap around me, feeling her body press perfectly against mine.

"Fuck, yes," she breathed against my lips, her hands finally dropping to wrap tight around my neck as she held on. "God, you’re strong."

"You feel it?" I asked, pressing myself against her without entering. "How hard I get when you say my name like that?"

She nodded desperately, gasping. "Peter... please, baby, I can’t—"

"Again."

"Peter—!" she cried out, and I rewarded her by sliding inside her with one slow, stretching thrust.

Her cry hit the tile walls like music — swallowed immediately by the hiss of water. "Oh my God, oh my God," she panted, her eyes rolling back.

She was already dripping for me, tight and warm and pulling me in like she’d never wanted anything more. Her body arched, and I held her tighter, grounding her in my arms as I moved — not fast, but deep.

"You feel incredible," I groaned against her neck. "So perfect for me."

She looked at me through half-lidded eyes, mouth parted, nails scratching lightly at my back. That look — it wasn’t just pleasure. It was surrender. "Only for you," she whispered. "Only ever for you."

Every thrust was slow, intense, like I was writing something permanent into her body — like she’d walk away from this marked in places only I could see.

Her moans turned into my name. Her gasps turned into promises. "Don’t stop, baby, please don’t stop," she begged, her voice getting higher, more desperate.

And mine?

Mine became a rhythm — hips rolling into hers, lips on her neck, voice gritted with need.

"You take me so well... like your body was made to fit mine."

"It was," she nodded desperately, wrapping her legs tighter around me. "We were made for this, Peter. Made for each other."

I could feel her getting closer, her body tensing, her breathing getting more erratic. "Come for me, Madison," I whispered in her ear. "Let go for me, baby."

"Peter, I’m—" she started, then shattered completely, crying out my name as her whole body convulsed around me.

When she finally broke apart in my arms, clinging to me like I was the only real thing left, I followed with a groan that shook straight from my chest, whispering her name like a prayer.

Still holding her.

Still inside her.

Still hers.

"I love you," she whispered against my neck, her voice satisfied and dreamy. "I love you so much it scares me."

"Don’t be scared," I murmured back, kissing her temple. "I’m not going anywhere."

"Promise?" she asked, and there was something vulnerable in her voice that made my heart clench.

"Promise," I said firmly. "You’re stuck with me, Madison Torres."

She laughed softly, the sound echoing in our steam-filled sanctuary. "Good. Because I’m never letting you go."

The steam around us softened everything except the way we clung to each other like the world might end and this — us — was the only part worth keeping.