June POV
By the time we were done, I could barely stand.
My legs were literal jelly — useless, shaking messes that could not support the weight of my own body, let alone the aftershocks of what just happened in that damn shower. So yeah, Justin had to help me out. Arms around me, towel slung low on his hips, water droplets still clinging to his skin and trailing down like a goddamn movie scene. I was half delirious and one-hundred percent wrecked, and he was still walking around like a Greek statue.
He dried me off with a tenderness that made my chest ache — like he hadn't just spent the last half hour rearranging my internal organs — then carried me bridal style back to the bedroom. I flopped on the bed like a soggy noodle, limbs splayed, too dazed to care about anything other than not dying.
