"Well," he said, voice deep, rich, a kind of sound that made the room feel too small. "Look at you."
Janet's chest stuttered. She couldn't speak. Couldn't move.
"Still dripping," he murmured, stepping in closer.
Each footfall was deliberate, and she watched in disbelief as he shut the door behind him—locking it—with one flick of his hand. Her breath hitched. Her back pressed harder into the cold stall wall. She tried to close her legs, tried to regain something, but—
"Don't."
The word stopped her cold.
Her thighs fell open again... wider.
Just like that.
She didn't even question it.
Eros stepped closer until his shadow fell over her completely. He towered above her now, one hand resting on the side of the stall, the other lifting her chin with two fingers that smelled faintly of cologne and power.
Her lips trembled beneath his touch.
