After the electrically charged encounter at the golf course. Sebastian had retreated to his private quarters with the desperate urgency of a man seeking shelter from a storm.
He stepped into the master bathroom, the marble surfaces cool and indifferent to the fire raging beneath his skin. He stripped away his clothes, letting the expensive linen fall to the floor in a heap, and stepped under the showerhead.
Sebastian cranked the handle to the extreme left.
The water that hit him wasn't just cold; it was a punishing exhilarating cold , the kind you of shock one needs after sticking too close to a fire that refused to burn, but promised to consume.
The cold water from the shower trickled down his spine. Goosebumps rising in his body in response.
The cold water could only manage to quench the fire in his body but not the one in his soul.
