The steam was already filling the bathroom, the door ajar letting out a wet and dense fog. The sound of the shower on echoed softly, muffling the rest of the world. She was on her back, her wet hair running down her bare back, when she heard the door close with a click.

“Did you think you were going to run away from me?” Damon’s hoarse voice sounded like a delicious threat behind her.

She turned slowly, her eyes meeting his through the fog. He was there, leaning against the must, only in jeans, his bare torso shining under the warm light of the bathroom.

“You needed a break,” she provoked, arching an eyebrow. “I was starting to lose my breath.”

Damon smiled, that predatory smile.

“Do you think I lose my breath... or do you want to see me lose control?”

Without waiting for an answer, he began to take off his pants slowly, his eyes fixed on her. And when she entered the box, the water dripping over his shoulders, she took a step back - by reflex. But there was nowhere to run.

He cornered her against the tile, one hand holding her chin, the other going down to the curve of her hip.

“Do you know what I like the most in here?” He whispered, his lips almost touching hers.

“What?” She asked, almost out of breath.

“The way you moan when you’re trying not to make noise... and I force you to forget about it.”

And that’s exactly what he did.

His hands slipped with the hot water, marking the way through her body. Wet kisses on the neck, soft bites on the shoulder, his breath mixing with the steam. She leaned against the wall, her legs already shaking before it all started.

“Damon...”

“Shh... You put yourself in this position, baby.”

She held the moan on her lips when he lifted her firmly, perfectly fitting her thighs around his waist. And there, with the shower dripping on the intertwined bodies, he proved that no room, no game, no surface would be enough.

She was his.

Not even the water could erase that.