When her fingers brushed against his arousal beneath the warmth, her pulse quickened.
Satisfaction flickered quietly across her face. Even exhausted. Even burdened. His body responded.
He still wanted her.
She let her touch linger just enough to confirm it before continuing the careful wash of his thighs.
In her mind, a single thought bloomed with fierce certainty.
Fuck the New York girl.
No matter what happened across oceans, no matter what temptations brushed against him in foreign cities, he returned here.
To Vienna.
To this house.
To her.
"You're so tense, Luciano. You should relax. You're home now. With me." She let the loofah slip from her fingers, abandoning pretense, and allowed her hands to glide through the water toward his cock. Her touch was no longer cautious. She traced his cock slowly, teasing, reminding him that beneath the weight of legacy and violence, he was still a man with a body that should answer to her.
