The question makes her pause, hands stilling, because it brings back that slithery rush of guilt she had felt before she was even standing in front of him. For a moment she even considers closing the bond, but instead she reaches out and turns off the shower without looking away from him.

“Perhaps you should take it as a compliment,” she tells him, moving her hands until they rest instead on her slender hips. “The enormity of my desire calls you into existence.”

Embarrassment finds her again because so far that’s been one-sided, and he hadn’t exactly seemed overcome by the sight of her, naked and openly wanting. She reminds herself what good control he has over himself, whereas she seems to have very little, and doesn’t let it get to her.

“But I could leave you to your food, if you’d rather,” she tells him, smiling in a way that looks more like a snarl. “And scratch my own itch.”