The steam curled in lazy tendrils, wrapping around their slick skin like a soft curtain trying to keep their secrets hidden. The air was thick and wet, heavy with the smell of soap and the sound of running water. Alessio’s hand was still on Noa’s thigh, warm and steady, his thumb brushing slow circles against the damp skin. His breath, hot and heavy, brushed the corner of Noa’s mouth like a whisper that wanted to turn into a kiss.

The door hadn’t closed.

It stayed half open, letting a ...