The water moved lazily around us, gentle ripples lapping at our shoulders and sending fractured city lights dancing across the surface in shattered ribbons of gold and white. Every small shift of our bodies sent new waves trembling outward.
The warmth had spread everywhere. Where our skin met—chest to chest, thigh to thigh—heat bloomed like embers catching. Celestine pressed closer, melting fully against me, the lingering chill of her body slowly giving way to something warmer, more urgent, more alive.
"Water has always meant something to me," she whispered, her breath cool and soft against the side of my neck. "A new beginning. A rebirth."
"Yeah," I murmured, voice low and rough. I felt everything: the steady thud of her heartbeat against my chest, the subtle roll of her hips, the slow, exploratory trace of her fingers down the muscles of my back.
She drew back just enough to meet my eyes, then glanced down between us. Her lips parted.
