A Match Made in Heaven!
A shower with Gael? Hell yes.
From his chest down to his abs, Angela raked over his torso, taking in each plane of his muscles and the ink covering his ribs and arms. She had thought about getting a tattoo when she was younger; now she wanted to match his.
Running her tongue along her bottom lip, she watched as he walked towards her. He scanned her body like he was undressing her with his eyes.
A sly smile cast on her face when she took a step back, increasing the gap between them. "You want to join me in my shower?"
"Is there a problem?" he asked, though his tone wasn't that of an inquiry—it sounded more like a demand. Like, 'Why the fûck not?' His imaginary dominant voice rang in her ear. She shivered as her back hit the cold door to her bedroom.
She shrugged. "You can…"
His brows knitted, and his steps slowed down. "But?"
"But you can't touch me."