Ripples of Fate

Chapter 22: Shower-

Mailin’s POV

The bathroom is filled with steam, swirling around us, as the warm water from the shower splashes softly on the tiles. My heart hammers in my chest, my breath catching as I kneel down in front of Shota, reaching out to help him with his shirt. My fingers tremble slightly as they brush against his skin, the heat from the shower mixing with the warmth radiating off his body.

I swallow hard as I carefully lift his shirt over his head, revealing the solid expanse of his chest. The muscles beneath his skin ripple slightly as I pull the fabric free, and I can’t help but let my gaze linger on the lines of his abs. His bruises are dark, an angry reminder of the battle at USJ, and I force myself to focus on them—not on the way the water glistens as it slides down his chest.

Focus, Mailin. You’re just helping him. That’s all this is.

But even as I try to remind myself of the reality of the situation, my body betrays me. My heart races, my skin tingles with every brush of his, and the air between us feels heavy. Too heavy.

I kneel to remove his pants, my fingers brushing along the waistband. I bite my lip, my cheeks burning as I try to focus on the practicalities of what I’m doing, but the intimacy of this—of undressing him, of being so close—makes it almost impossible. I can feel the heat of his skin radiating off of him, so close I could touch it, and my mind is racing.

When I finally pull his pants free and stand up, stepping into the shower with him, the tension between us becomes suffocating. I can feel the steam wrapping around us, but it does nothing to ease the heat building in my chest.

I reach for the shampoo, the bottle slipping slightly in my trembling hands. Calm down, I tell myself. Just do what you came here to do. But even as I step closer to him, I can feel the weight of his presence, the electricity in the air between us. My fingers glide through his hair, lathering the shampoo slowly, deliberately, but I can’t ignore how every brush of my hand sends sparks shooting through me.

I try to focus on the task at hand, but it’s impossible. The proximity, the intimacy—it’s overwhelming. My gaze drifts over his shoulders, down his back, lingering on places I shouldn’t be looking. His body is solid, strong, every inch of him radiating a power that I’ve always admired. But now, being this close, it’s not just admiration. It’s something more.

I rinse his hair, my fingers sliding down the back of his neck, my breath hitching at the feel of his damp skin. The water cascades down his chest, following the lines of his muscles, and I can’t stop my eyes from trailing lower.

I force myself to look away, my cheeks burning with embarrassment, but I can’t shake the image from my mind. The tension between us is thick, palpable, and I can feel the heat pooling low in my stomach. This is too much. Too intimate. Too...

I can’t help but wonder if he feels it too. If he’s as aware of the space between us as I am. If his heart is pounding as hard as mine.

When I move to wash his legs, kneeling in front of him again, the closeness becomes almost unbearable. My face is level with his hips, and I can feel his eyes on me, watching my every move. The steam wraps around us, the water from the shower cascading down his body, and I bite my lip, trying desperately to focus on the bruises, the injuries—anything but the fact that Shota Aizawa is standing naked in front of me.

My hand lingers on his calf as I wash him, the contact sending another shock through my system. The heat between us is suffocating now, and I can barely breathe, let alone think clearly. I finish washing him, stepping back slightly, but the air between us is still thick with tension.

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Shota’s POV

The steam swirls around us, clouding the bathroom in a haze of heat, but it’s not the warmth of the water that has my body tensing. It’s her.