Leo’s POV

​Her eyes moved slowly over my skin, tracing every line of muscle until they stopped at the fresh ink over my heart—the tattoo I’d gotten a year ago when the grief was at its peak.

​She reached out, her damp fingertips trembling as she touched the elegant script. It was her name, Scarlett.

​"Scarlett," she whispered, reading it aloud.

​She leaned in, her lips pressing a soft, lingering kiss directly over the ink. The feel of her lips against my chest sent a jolt of pleasure straight to my groin. She didn’t stop there. She began to trail hot, wet kisses across my chest, her tongue darting out to taste my skin. When she took my nipple into her mouth and swirled her tongue around it, I let out a long moan, my head thumping back against the tile.

​"Fuck, Scar," I growled, my fingers digging into the soft flesh of her hips.

​Her hand dropped lower, her knuckles grazing the ridge of my jeans before she gripped my belt. She unbuckled it with a desperate hunger, the metal clinking in the quiet room. She made quick work of the zipper and shoved the heavy denim down my legs. I kicked them away, standing there in only my boxers, my hardness straining painfully against the thin fabric of my boxers.

​She didn’t make me wait. She hooked her thumbs into the waistband and pulled them down. My cock sprang free, hard and pulsing, aching for the warmth I’d been denied for three years.

​She didn’t look away. She reached out, her small hand wrapping around my cock, and I nearly went to my knees. "Fuck," she breathed, her thumb smoothing over the tip.

​She turned, let go of my cock, and led me into the walk-in shower. The water was already running, the steam filling the space until the world outside the glass didn’t exist. As the hot spray hit our skin, slicking her hair back and making her body glisten like a goddess, I reached for her.

​I cupped her face, my thumbs tilting her chin up, and crashed my lips onto hers.

​We kissed, slow and deep, the sound of the water hammering against the glass drowned out by the heavy thuds of our hearts. Her hand found my cock again, wrapping around the base and stroking me with a slow, agonizing rhythm that had me seeing stars. I was on cloud nine, lost in the pleasure and the heat of her mouth against mine.

​But then, a cold realization began to seep through the pleasure.

​Scarlett was... different now. The way she moved, the confidence in her touch, the way she led me—she wasn’t the shy, hesitant girl I had lost three years ago. She handled me with an expertise that felt different. A sharp, painful thought sliced through my mind, and before I could stop myself, I pulled back.

​My heart sank into my stomach. The jealousy was killing me... Our eyes locked, hers dark with desire and confused by my sudden retreat.

​"Why did you stop?" she whispered, her voice husky from the steam.

​"Scar..." I started, the words heavy on my lips. "Have you... have you been with other men?"

​The silence that followed was suffocating. I was braced for a lie, or worse, the truth. I felt sick with the image of another man touching her, teaching her the things she was currently doing to me. Things I was supposed to teach her myself.

​She didn’t answer right away. Instead, she let out a slow, steady breath and rested her back against the wet tile wall. Then she looked at me with a gaze that scared me.

Slowly, she lifted her leg, wrapping it around my waist and pulling me closer until there was no space left between us.

​She grabbed my hand, her fingers interlacing with mine, and guided it down between her thighs.

​"Why don’t you check it out for yourself, Leo?" she challenged.

​Holding her gaze, I didn’t hesitate. I slid a single finger into her, the heat and the wetness nearly making me lose my mind. I watched her eyes roll back, a sharp gasp escaping her lips as her head hit the tile.

​She was fucking tight. My finger was barely inside, and I could feel her walls clenching around me, trembling with a sensitivity that was almost painful to witness.

​"Scar..." I whispered, my voice thick with raw emotion.

​She forced her eyes open, her sea-blue eyes cloudy with pleasure and satisfaction. "I have been untouched, Leo," she said, her voice catching as I curled my finger inside her. "For the past three years... I didn’t even touch myself. I couldn’t bear the thought of anyone’s hands on me... even my own."

​A sound that was half-sob and half-growl tore from my throat. The relief was so intense I felt lightheaded. I crashed my lips against hers again, tasting the steam and her tears as I moved my finger deeper, sets of rhythmic thrusts that had her arching off the wall.

​I added a second finger, stretching her, and the reaction was instant. She let out a choked gasp, her body jerking as if a cock was already buried deep inside her. Her other leg flew up, wrapping firmly around my waist, locking me into the cradle of her thighs.

​"Leo, please," she whimpered into my mouth, her pussy pulsing around my fingers, slick and incredibly hot.

​The water was pouring over us, turning her skin into silk, but all I could feel was the way she was begging for me. I moved my hand faster, my thumb finding the hooded pearl of her clit and grinding against it. She let out a high-pitched moan, her fingers digging into my shoulders, drawing blood that was immediately washed away by the shower.

​I pulled my fingers out and licked them... causing me to have that delicious taste of her.

​I looked down, my breath hitching at the sight of her. She was dripping, her pussy swollen and red, practically screaming for me to finish what we started.

"God, Scar," I moaned, the sound lost to the roar of the water.

I hooked my arms under her knees, my large hands gripping her soft thighs. With a single, powerful lift, I hiked her up against the wet tile. Her legs locked around my waist, anchoring her to me, until I felt the heavy, pulsing weight of my cock align perfectly against her entrance.