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door closed and for a single, terrifying moment, she thought he’d given up and gone away.
    “You have to answer me, even if the answer hurts.” He paused, and asked, “Do you? Yes or no.”
    She pulled the curtain back a few inches. Mac’s reflection in the steamed up mirror was only a blur, devoid of facial features or texture or color. His hand came out of nowhere, folding over hers. The simple touch shook “Yes” past the block in her throat. She said it again to be sure.
    “Yes. I still love you.”
    Mac blew out a breath she could hear, even over the patter of water on the shower tiles. His relief gave her anxiety permission to pull back. The tight knot in her stomach eased. Only for a minute though.
    “The night at Elizabeth’s wasn’t the beginning. When did this start?”
    “I don’t—”
    He cut her off. “You didn’t change overnight. When?”
    “The job I took as a figure model for that summer art retreat.” She squeezed her sponge hard. Rivulets of soap slid from her wrist to her elbow, silky and softer than her confession. “I liked being watched. People studied me, criticized me, drew me into the body they saw.”
    “Jesus, Amy. Fuck. That was more than five years ago. Why didn’t you tell me?”
    “What was I supposed to say? I changed almost overnight. I didn’t know what it meant until later.” She exhaled. “Mac, your hand is cold as ice,” she said. “There’s still hot water. Do you want the rest of it?”
    He pulled the curtain back, removing her plastic wall of defense. She shrank up to the wall, covering her chest. Mac was a mess. Rain plastered his hair into a dark, dripping cap. “You want people to look at you?”
    Breathing was difficult. Amy mustered a small affirmative squeak.
    “Fine.” He released the third and fourth buttons, baring his hard chest, the dark, soft swirls of hair she loved to touch. Cloth parted down to his navel and he pulled the tails from his pants. Inches lower, his cock once again strained at his fly, the round shape of the head unmistakable. He lowered his zipper. “I never had any problems with looking at you. Don’t hide yourself from me again. Unless you want to be seen by everybody except me?”
    He stared pointedly at her shielded chest. Half-numb, Amy slowly uncrossed her arms. She didn’t know what to do with her hands, or, for that matter, her body’s responses. He had never stripped her of every single hiding place before now.
    “What are you thinking?” she ventured.
    Mac didn’t answer. He peeled the sodden shirt from his shoulders and dropped it in the sink. His pants followed and he climbed into the tub, pulling the curtain into place.
    His erection reached her first, hot and heavy as it nuzzled the cleft between her thighs. He ducked his head, burying his face against her throat and biting. Amy threaded her fingers through his hair until he grasped her wrists and stretched her arms wide, pinning her hands to the shower tile. She rose on tiptoe and rocked forward, desperate for contact with him. “ Mac .”
    “What am I thinking? I’m trying to figure out what you want,” he said roughly. The beginnings of a beard scraped her skin. Amy rubbed her cheek along his jaw, imagined the abrasive sensation against the rim of her vagina. Her knees weakened.
    “I want you to make me come.”
    He thrust between her legs, not penetrating. “That’s what you want right now?”
    She squirmed, grinding her pelvis against his. The base of his cock lodged up against her clit. A bolt of pleasure arrowed north, split and targeted her nipples. Amy arched her back, seeking the sensation of his curling hair and wet skin. “Please, yes.”
    “You can’t have that yet.” He licked the spot behind her ear. “Ask me for something else.”
    Amy hitched her knee high, straining for closer contact. Penetration. Mac lifted her arms above her head and braced her wrists with one hand. He grasped her knee with the other and shoved it down.