Rhea didn't use bathtubs other than her own, so she stood under the shower on shaky legs, barely able to hold herself up.
As George carefully lathered her with body wash, she looked down at him. His toned body was marked with traces she had left on him, and they were enough to make her blush.
She couldn't resist running her hand along his back. There was just something about a man's charm that women couldn't compete with. It stole the show.
George looked up. "No wandering hands allowed."
"Wandering?" Rhea raised her voice. "Are you sure this is called wandering? I'll show you what a wandering hand is really like!"
As quick as a flash, her hands roamed over half his body. The next thing she knew, her wrists were pinned against the wall behind her.
A moment later, she let out a soft moan, half from pain and half from shock at being abruptly penetrated.
…
Rhea emerged from the bathroom 40 minutes later, wrapped in a bath towel. She sat at the dining table and looked at the food that had long gone cold.
She was exhausted, but she was also starving.
George came over with a hairdryer. "I ordered fresh food. It's on the way."
He had slipped into a black robe he'd brought with him. His slightly narrowed eyes and subtle smile gave him the air of a predator.
Rhea leaned back, resting her head on the chair as she let him fuss with her hair. At some point, he caught her mumbling something and turned off the hairdryer. "What did you say?"
She smiled. "Nothing."
The food arrived when Rhea's hair was mostly dry. She was ravenous by then.
As she ate, she scooped out some food and placed it on George's plate. "I don't like this."
He popped it into his mouth without a hint of complaint.
Her eyes widened. "You're not picky with your food?"
"I can be."

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