Page 118 of Shattered By Grace

Victoria held his gaze, her pulse hammering as she set her glass down. The way he watched her—patient, expectant, completely in control—made her skin flush before she even moved.

Her fingers trembled slightly as she reached for the hem of her shirt. She peeled it over her head, dropping it to the side before pushing her pants past her hips. Her breathing grew unsteady, especially under his intense, dark, and unblinking gaze.

By the time she was bare, the tension between them could be cut with a knife.

He finally moved, stepping behind her. His fingers brushed her shoulders, his touch achingly gentle.

“Come here.”

He led her toward the shower, fingers tracing lazy circles on her wrist before reaching for the glass door. He pulled it open, waiting—watching.

Victoria hesitated, the question forming on her lips, but before she could speak, Tristan lifted a finger, pressing it gently to her mouth.

A slow shake of his head. A single, lingering drag of his finger across her bottom lip.

“I’m coming.”

The warm water cascaded over her, washing away the weight of the day. Steam curled around her as she sank beneaththe spray, eyes fluttering shut. Tension unraveled from her shoulders, melting away with every drop.

But the second Tristan stepped in, everything shifted.

The heat of his body now mixed with the steam. Before she could process the moment, his hands were on her waist, pulling her flush against him.

And then his mouth was on hers.

A deep, slow kiss that stole the breath from her lungs.

Victoria melted.

Her fingers curled into his forearms as he kissed her like he had all the time in the world,like he wanted to replace every single thought in her head with only him.

By the time he pulled back, her body was humming, her skin burning hotter than the water surrounding them.

Tristan’s thumb brushed over her lips, his voice low, rough and deadly.

“Let me wash you.”

He reached for the shampoo, pouring it into his palms before threading his fingers into her hair.

Victoria nearly moaned.

He worked slowly, massaging her scalp with strong, careful hands, easing the tension from every inch of her. Each movement was precise, like he knew exactly where she needed the release.

Like he wanted to take care of her.

Her shoulders slumped under his touch, a deep sigh slipping past her lips.

Tristan hummed, the sound deep, satisfied.

“That’s it, love.” His voice was barely above a murmur, his thumbs circling at her temples, undoing her, stroke by stroke.

Victoria didn’t realize she was leaning into him until his breath ghosted over her ear.

“Let me take care of you.”

And God…she let him.

“Tilt your head back.” His voice was low, coaxing, and she followed without argument, letting the water stream through her hair.

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