The bathroom air hung thick, a humid shroud clinging to Roselyn’s skin, already slick with anticipation. Water droplets still beaded on the frosted glass of the shower stall, reflecting the soft, diffused light from the vanity. Mike stood before her, his chest rising and falling with a raw, primal rhythm that mirrored the frantic beating of her own heart. A single bead of sweat traced a path down his temple, disappearing into the dark stubble of his jaw. “Ready for this?” His voice, a low rumble, vibrated through the small space. His eyes, dark pools of desire, devoured her. “More than ready… קרא עוד

… קרא עוד