Echoes in the Steam
The tension had become a living thing, a humming wire stretched tight between us. Even though we were miles apart, the words we had exchanged earlier lingered in the air like a heavy perfume. I stepped into the bathroom, my breath hitching as I thought of her. Every memory of her touch felt like a brand on my skin, making my blood run hot and my pulse race.
It was a struggle even to undress. My desire for her had me so wound up that my clothes felt like a prison. When I finally stepped naked into the shower, the air felt too thin, the heat of my own body radiating off me in waves. I turned the handle, letting the water cascade over my shoulders. I started with a lukewarm spray, hoping to soothe the ache, but my imagination was a traitor; it only amplified the longing.
I closed my eyes, and suddenly, she was there. I could almost feel the ghost of her fingertips tracing the line of my spine, her breath warm against my neck. The steam swirled around me, blurring the lines between reality and fantasy until I could almost taste her on my lips. I leaned my forehead against the cool tile, gasping as the memory of her touch sparked a fire that no amount of water could extinguish.