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ask?”
    Her hands slipped down, gliding beneath the satin sheets to stroke him. He was already hard as steel, and her little moan of pleasure when she discovered that fact simply made him harder. “Well, I’d hate to make you late, but . . .”
    “I’ll make up the time somehow,” he assured her as he turned, leaning back so that he could see her face. “Actually, I have a better idea.”
    One perfectly formed brow lifted. “Oh, really?”
    He stood, then held out a hand. “Nothing like multitasking,” he said with a quick glance toward the bathroom and the eight showerheads that waited for them in the stall.
    She grinned wickedly, then slid out of bed. “I’m a big fan of multitasking.”
    The shower was amazing, even by the Moreau standards, and it was one of the reasons that Dante had wanted this suite. Large enough for even more than two people, with an overhead “rain” showerhead and rows of side heads on either side, the place was practical, decadent, and potentially erotic.
    He turned the water on full blast, then adjusted the temperature. He stepped into the spray, the dual sets of heads pummeling his body from all sides.
    He reached for her, but she shook her head. “Too rough,” she said.
    “For you? I’m surprised.”
    She grinned, then leaned past him, turning the ornate lever to shift the water from the side-facing heads to the overhead flow. The ceiling seemed to open up, and they were standing in a soft spring rain. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her body close to his, her crotch nestled against his ready cock. “Now isn’t this better?”
    “Most definitely,” he said, bending down for a long, slow kiss as the water sluiced over their bodies. Hands followed the trail of water, and when she reached past him to one of the many soap dispensers filled with fragrant cleansers, her breasts brushed gently against his skin, sending coils of heat ripping through him.
    Her hands were slick, filled with lavender-scented soap, and she rubbed them on his chest, the minimal friction as erotic as a gentle kiss. Too gentle, though. Her touch was driving him crazy, and he pulled her close, crushing his mouth over hers. She responded instantly, and just as eagerly, her legs clinging to his body, then sliding down because of the damnably slick soap.
    He grabbed her, lifting her as she hooked her legs around him, pulling her in tight as he slid into her sweet center. Hard and fast, yes, but he couldn’t wait any longer, and from the way her breath was coming in desperate gasps, he knew that she couldn’t, either.
    They writhed together, bodies joined, skin slippery, steam billowing around them. Her hand splayed out, seeking purchase on the cut-stone wall of the shower, even as her back arched and she thrust herself against him. “Yes,” she cried. “Oh, please, yes”
    He didn’t hesitate, didn’t answer, simply let his body respond. And soon he felt her tighten around his, watched as a tremor shook her frame. She gasped, her head thrusting back until she was facing the gentle spray of water from above. He thrust again once, one hand clinging to a showerhead for support. He seemed to explode with sensation, and he thrust his own head back, the shower’s water seeming to dissolve into steam upon the inferno of heat they were generating.
    He held her close, their bodies sinking together to the marble floor. They clung to each other, breath coming hot and fast. After a few moments, when he was sure his body could handle the strain of speech and thought, he shifted a bit. He needed to look into her eyes and see if he saw there the reflection of his own satisfaction. He did, and when she smiled like the cat who’d caught the canary, his heart gave a little leap.
    He’d been caught, all right, and he didn’t mind in the least.
    “We should move,” she said, after an eternity of clinging to each other. “We’re all wet.”
    “A small price to pay.”
    “We’ll get all