Chapter 3: Slipping Into the Steam

The guest bathroom door clicked shut behind me, and I stepped back into the night air with bare feet padding across cool deck planks. A crisp evening breeze swept up from the pool, sliding under the thin straps of my one-piece and raising instant prickles along my arms and collarbone. My nipples drew tight against the damp fabric, two sharp points that made the suit feel suddenly too revealing. I crossed my arms loosely over my chest, wineglass still in one hand, and walked toward the far end of the yard where the hot tub glowed like a secret.

String lights cast their soft amber haze over everything—the pool rippling quietly in the background, laughter drifting in low bursts from scattered groups, the low hum of music threading through it all. The scent of chlorine hung heavier now, sharp and clean against the fading grill smoke. Steam rose in lazy curls from the tub’s surface, where thick white bubbles churned and hissed under dim colored spots. Seven or eight people were already packed in shoulder to shoulder, glasses balanced on the edge, voices overlapping in easy weekend chatter. Jake lounged against the far bench, broad shoulders gleaming wet, that same knowing half-smile playing on his lips as his gaze found mine across the foam. Mark stood five feet away on the deck, beer in hand, deep in conversation with Dave and a couple of the other husbands, his laugh carrying clear and relaxed over the water.

Sit across from him, I told myself, pulse quickening with every step. Keep it safe. Keep it normal. But my body betrayed the thought—heat already slick and heavy between my thighs, the swimsuit crotch clinging uncomfortably where I’d been wet since his last whisper by the pool. I dipped a toe in first. The water was scalding, almost too much, a sudden rush that made my skin flush hot from calves to thighs. Then I lowered myself in, the heat swallowing me up to my chest in one slow glide.

There was no real space. Bodies pressed close on every side, elbows brushing, knees nudging under the foam. I ended up sliding right beside Jake, my hip settling firmly against his solid thigh before I could shift away. The contact jolted through me like a live wire—his skin slick and warm, muscle firm under the churning water. The jets pulsed strong against my lower back and the backs of my thighs, relentless streams that massaged and teased in equal measure. Thick bubbles frothed up around us, hiding everything below the surface in a perfect, foamy veil. My shoulder grazed his above the waterline, and I felt the faint damp heat of his skin against mine.