We didn’t make it to his bed, not for a long time.

We were flooding whoever’s room was directly beneath us by the time he picked me up and carried me out of the bathtub, my legs wrapped around his waist. He set me down on the counter, sliding inside of me without preamble as I arched my back and dug my nails into his shoulders. He was bracing himself with one hand on the fogged-up mirror, his other hand holding me in place by my hip.

He was moving achingly ...