She’d grown light-headed, her legs wobbly, after lying there suspended in the air and experiencing multiple, intense climaxes. He guided her to a luxurious bathroom. The glass shower enclosure was enormous, and included a teak bench. At Jacob’s urging, Harper sat down on it heavily, her head bowed. She felt exhausted . . . completely wrung out by the sharp lash of sexual bliss. A moment later, she felt warm water running over her skin, and even better, Jacob’s soap-covered hand. He was cleaning her with a handheld showerhead. It felt divine. Decadent. She wanted to look at him, but her head felt so heavy. He put one hand on her knee, opening her thighs. Warm water rushed over her sex. She whimpered. It soothed the slight sting in her tissues. For whatever reason, his gentle, patient bathing of her, his implicit understanding of what she was experiencing following his demanding possession, struck her as one of the most intimate, beautiful moments of her life.
