You've had a crappy day and after bitching about it for half an hour James disappears from the room. You can't blame him; you're no fun to be with in this mood. But a few minutes later he comes back with drinks for both of you, and leads you into the bathroom which is lit by what seems like hundreds of candles, reflecting off the mirrors, tiles and chrome, steam gently rising from the big, old fashioned tub. He slowly takes off your clothes dropping tiny kisses on you as he goes, and, finally naked, you reluctantly step in to the water. His own clothes come off considerably faster. He settles in between your legs and hands you a bottle of shampoo. "Make yourself useful while you're back there" he says with a cheeky grin. You start to wash his hair, mesmerized by the look on his face as you massage his scalp. Eyes closed, head back, lips parted; he's so beautiful it hurts. Your hands slip down over his shoulders to his warm, wet belly. You tickle his belly button with one soapy finger and he slips out of your grasp and under the water, emerging slick as an otter, shining in the candlelight. He's twisted on to his front now, and glides easily up over your body, sliding one arm behind your head, the other around your waist. With his mouth cool from the ice in his drink, he sucks off the water that's dripping from his hair onto your breasts, your nipples instantly hardening under his tongue, and works his way up your neck and between your lips. The kiss is so long and deep and hot that your head starts to spin, nothing exists outside this room. You are not going to fall in love this time. It's not his fault. James is wonderful: intelligent, funny, sexy as all f**k; but you still bear the scars from the last time, and you can't go through that again. He finally breaks off the kiss and rests his wet forehead against yours, both breathing heavily now. "Feeling any better?" he asks. You can feel how much he wants you; the head of his huge cock is rubbing insistently against your belly. You wrap your legs around him and in one smooth movement he's inside you. Your hips rock together, the rhythmic pressure on your clit is exquisite. You stare into each other’s eyes, daring the other to look away first. He wins, but only just, as you lose control completely. Calling out his name, you cling to him as he bucks against you, his own orgasm raging, trying to merge your bodies together, stay like that forever. As you lay back on his chest, your finger making swirling patterns in the hair on his thigh, you know it's time to stop making him pay for something he didn't do. He hugs you closer, "I know," he murmurs in your ear "me too".