He doesn’t turn. That makes it worse in a way, and she stops staring at his back to run her hands down her hips, lingering on places where his fingertips had already left marks. She’s pocked with them; on her neck, her thighs, all from him.

“Yes, with me.” Might as well confirm that point. Shifting under the shower spray, she sighs, loudly enough that he’s likely to hear it. What is he waiting for, an open invitation? He’ll never get that, not from her. But…

“Little late to worry about your humanity now.” His eyes are intense, and she’s caught when he stares at her, stock still in the headlights. Slowly, in a way that he can’t help but miss, she nods.