My fingers found the loose knot of her robe's sash. With a deliberate tug, it whispered undone. The heavy silk sighed open, sliding slowly, deliciously down her shoulders like molten darkness. It caught briefly at her elbows, baring her torso to the warm, steam-laden air.
The sight stole my breath.
The contrast was breathtaking. Cool air kissed her exposed skin, raising gooseflesh across her breasts and flat belly, even as the residual heat of the kitchen and the fire of my gaze washed over her. She shivered violently, a full-body ripple.
"It's... cold," she breathed, her nipples pearling instantly into tight, hard buds against the sudden chill.
"But you're burning up," I thought, tracing the rosy areolas with my thumbs. Her breasts were fuller than Emma's, heavier in my palms, the soft weight fitting perfectly. The sight of them—pale, flawless, topped with those straining peaks—sent a jolt straight to my cock.
