Urban System in America

As Rex stepped inside with that signature wicked grin playing on his lips, the humid warmth of the shower instantly wrapped around him like a veil. Steam curled along the glass and tiles, dancing in the air, carrying the intoxicating scent of rose-scented shampoo, citrus body wash, and something uniquely hers.

There she was… Monica.

Her back was turned to him, humming gently as she lathered herself in slow, sensual motions, completely unaware of the predator creeping closer. Her skin was porcelain smooth, glistening under the soft shower lights, water trailing down her spine like liquid silk. The way her muscles shifted subtly beneath her flawless skin with each movement, graceful and unhurried, was enough to make his breath hitch.

A single droplet clung to the nape of her neck before sliding down, tracing the gentle curve of her back, over the small of her waist, and disappearing between her perfectly shaped hips. It was pure, torturous beauty. A living painting brought to life.

Rex bit his lip, hard, trying to control the surge rising inside him.

But his hormones were already rebelling, roaring with fire.

He stepped silently behind her, tiptoeing like a thief. And in a way, he was, stealing a moment he probably had no right to.

Then, without warning, he wrapped his arms around her wet, slippery body, pulling her flush against his chest. His chin came to rest on her shoulder, his lips grazing her damp skin.

"Ah!" she yelped, startled, dropping the soap. Thаnk yоu fоr rеаding. This wаs brоught tо yоu by М|V|L*ЕМРYR.

But the panic faded the moment she turned her head and saw him. "Rex?! What the hell—!"

"I couldn't help it," he murmured, voice deep, warm, and heavy with desire. "With a big beauty like you showering so close… who could resist?"

"You—! Didn't I tell you not to come in here?!"

Before she could finish her protest, his lips sealed hers in a deep, heated kiss. It was sudden, rough at first—an ambush of hunger and heat. She tried to resist, pushing at his chest weakly with her wet hands, mumbling something against his mouth.

But her resistance crumbled quickly.

Her fingers curled around his nape. Then, her lips responded, pressing back with just as much intensity. Her protest melted into a low moan, and soon, it was a battle for dominance—her tongue clashing against his, breathes mingling, fingers sliding through wet hair, skin slapping skin softly as their bodies pressed closer, nothing between them but the water.

He pinned her gently to the wall, his mouth trailing down to her neck, biting lightly on the soft spot just beneath her ear, drawing a shiver from her lips. She retaliated by tugging his hair and whispering something naughty in his ear, earning a low growl from his throat.

Water cascaded over them, hot and unrelenting, as hands explored freely, her nails dragging down his back, his palms smoothing over every inch of her curves. The steam turned thicker, mixing with their soft gasps and half-choked laughter.

Ten… maybe twenty minutes later, the storm of passion cooled.

They now lay nestled in the massive marble bathtub, surrounded by warm water and floating rose petals. The lights had dimmed automatically, casting a golden glow over the scene.

Rex leaned back lazily against the tub, arms resting along its edges, his breathing finally steadying. Monica sat in his lap, her slick body pressed against his, head resting against his chest. Her long hair spilled across his collarbone like a curtain of silk, still damp, smelling faintly of jasmine and something uniquely hers.

Neither of them said a word for a while.

The only sound was the soft ripple of water and the occasional pop of bubbles, as her fingers lazily traced lines across his chest.

"Humph. Men…" Monica suddenly snorted, her voice low and sulky, though there was a faint flush on her cheeks as she remembered the shameless things he'd made her do just moments ago—how bold he'd been, how wickedly skilled his hands were, and how easily her body had betrayed her mock protests.

Rex chuckled, his breath ruffling her damp hair, nuzzling against her bare shoulder, inhaling her sweet scent, fresh soap, a hint of jasmine, and something deeply Monica.

"But didn't you enjoy it too?" he murmured with a teasing lilt. "And don't forget, it's not like I forced anything. You're the one who left the door unlocked. Deliberately."

"I-I just… I'm not used to locking the door," she snapped back, a little too quickly, her voice flustered. "It's habit!"

"Ohhh, of course," he said, nodding with mock understanding, his voice dripping with playfulness. "Totally understandable, madam."

That sarcastic tone made her glare up at him with a faint pout, her finger flicking a droplet of water at his chin.

"I'd probably forget too, if I knew a big beauty was showering nearby."

That earned him an elbow to the ribs, but it was half-hearted.

"All men are the same," she mumbled, huffing. "Just think with their lower brain…and don't even know what gentleness means."

Rex said with a dramatic sigh. "Gentleness? Madam, for your kind understanding, all I used… was your hand. I didn't even get what I really wanted," he added with a wink, though his voice softened near the end.

Monica's lips parted, but no retort came. He was right. As bold and teasing as he had been, he never crossed the line. Not once. He listened to every hesitant sound she made, stopped every time her body tensed too much, and despite how hungry his eyes were… he had shown more restraint than she expected. Her mock anger fizzled into reluctant acceptance.

"B-But still…" she mumbled, unable to form a proper complaint, her voice trailing off as she remembered how he gently wiped her face afterward, and kissed her forehead like it was the most natural thing in the world. How his hands weren't just rough and hungry, but careful, as if holding something precious.

Rex chuckled under his breath, leaned down, and kissed her neck tenderly… nothing lustful, just soft and lingering, as if to calm whatever embers of indignation still flickered within her.

The anger—real or not—dissolved like steam rising from the water.

Monica sighed quietly, the tension in her shoulders melting away under his touch. Her head tilted slightly, allowing him better access, though she'd never admit she was doing it on purpose.

Moments later, they both lay quietly again in the tub, steam rising around them, flower petals drifting lazily on the surface. The soft light from the washroom creating a golden glow. Her fingers rested over his heartbeat, feeling its calm, steady rhythm. His arms wrapped around her waist, one hand caressed her thigh in slow, idle strokes… no intent, just touch.

The earlier heat had passed, replaced by a peaceful silence only lovers could share.

"I didn't expect tonight to end up like this," Monica murmured softly, eyes half-lidded.

"Neither did I," Rex said, voice low. "But I'm glad it did."

She smiled faintly and leaned into his chest. "You're still annoying."

"And you're still pretending to hate it," he said, brushing his lips across her temple.

The water lapped gently against the tub's edge. Outside, the world was quiet. Inside, the air was warm, thick with the scent of petals and the feeling of something more than lust.

Not just the aftermath of pleasure, but the first brush of real closeness.

(End of Chapter)