I pushed it the rest of the way down my thighs, stepped free, then picked it up and placed it beside the shorts.
When I straightened again, nothing remained between my skin and the cool air of the bathroom; I was completely naked.
I looked at the mirror.
Yesterday, seeing Evelyn wearing my clothes had been strange precisely because they were mine. The loose shorts and stretched tank top had surrounded a body they had never been made for, making every difference in her proportions more obvious, whereas now even those familiar clothes were gone and there was only Evelyn—or, more accurately, me wearing absolutely nothing while looking exactly like her.
My gaze travelled down despite myself.
I had already examined this body yesterday, but evidently familiarity had done very little to cure my curiosity. This time, however, there was no Evelyn standing a room away while I tried to figure out how her anatomy worked; there was only me and twenty minutes.
I turned toward the shower before my curiosity could interpret that combination too creatively.
Warm water struck the top of my head the moment I stepped beneath it, soaking through my hair before running down my face and shoulders.
“Ahh…”
I closed my eyes.
That felt good.
After everything that had happened since yesterday afternoon, standing beneath hot water without anyone trying to rob, question, dress, undress, or explain something to me might have been the first completely ordinary thing I had done.
At least for several seconds.
Water ran over my chest, and my eyes opened again as the streams divided around the curves of my breasts, collecting beneath them before dripping from the lowest points. Each time the water passed directly over my nipples, I felt a faint prickling sensation that was considerably more noticeable than anything a shower had ever done to my old body.
Of course.
Even taking a shower couldn’t remain ordinary.
I reached for the body wash, squeezed some into one palm, and began with my shoulders and arms, which were easy enough.
My chest was where things became complicated.
I hesitated with both hands hovering in front of me, even though there was no sensible reason to do so; they needed washing.
I placed my hands against them.
Soft flesh yielded beneath my palms.
I had touched them briefly yesterday, but doing so while actually washing myself was different. I wasn’t simply poking at something unfamiliar anymore. I had to lift each breast slightly, run my hand underneath it, clean along the soft crease where it rested against my chest, then work upward again while their weight shifted naturally in my hands with every movement.
It was strange how quickly something could feel simultaneously foreign and intimately mine.
My soapy palm slid across one nipple, and I inhaled sharply as a small pulse travelled through my chest.
I tried the other side.
The reaction was almost identical.
“Okay.”
I looked down at them.
“They are unnecessarily sensitive.”
My current body offered no response beyond two increasingly firm pink nipples.
For some reason, Sera’s explanation about Evelyn disliking trousers came back to me. I had assumed it was simply one of those peculiar preferences she had developed over the years, but standing beneath the shower with nothing more than warm water making my body react this strongly gave the complaint considerably more credibility.
If her legs were even remotely this sensitive to constant contact, having fabric wrapped around them all day probably really was irritating.
Maybe that was why she preferred skirts.
Naturally, that made me curious.
I brushed my thumb over one deliberately, and the sensation was considerably clearer when I was expecting it: a sharp little spark at the point of contact followed by a warmer, softer feeling spreading beneath it.
I did it again, slower.
“Ahh…”
My thumb stopped.
There was that sound again, and Evelyn’s voice made it considerably worse.
I glanced toward the closed bathroom door as though Sera might somehow have heard me through it.
Nothing.
Even if she did, I was only washing.
Technically.
I gave the other nipple the same experimental attention, pinching it very lightly between two fingers, and my stomach tightened enough that I felt the response somewhere much lower than my chest.
That immediately made the whole experiment more interesting, yet considerably more dangerous.
“Twenty minutes,” I reminded myself, forcing myself to reluctantly move on.
Washing my stomach and hips was far less distracting, although even there I kept noticing differences. Evelyn’s waist narrowed far more sharply beneath my hands than mine ever had before widening again over hips that forced my palms farther apart as I followed their shape downward.
My hands reached my thighs and stopped.
I already knew what was between them, having examined it rather thoroughly for someone who had supposedly only gone into a bathroom to pee, yet seeing Evelyn’s anatomy and actually having to wash it were apparently two different things.
I spread my legs slightly beneath the water.
Warm streams were already running between them, and the sensation alone was strangely noticeable now that I was paying attention to it.
I brought one hand down, my sapphire-blue nails looking almost absurdly elegant against the pale skin of my thigh as my fingers travelled inward.
The first touch against the outer lips produced only warmth and softness, but as I carefully washed along them, one finger slipped over the narrow slit between them and my body reacted before I could.
My thighs tensed.
“Mm.”
That was definitely not the same sensation as washing any other part of myself.
Yesterday, I had been too overwhelmed by curiosity to properly separate what I was feeling. Now, with warm water running over me and nothing else demanding my attention, the difference was much easier to understand.
The skin there wasn’t merely sensitive.
It was responsive.
Every slow pass of my fingers produced a faint warmth that seemed to gather deeper inside my pelvis rather than remaining wherever I touched.
I shifted one outer fold aside to wash more carefully, only to discover that the softer skin underneath was considerably more sensitive.
My breathing slowed.
That feels really good.
There was no point lying to myself.
I moved my fingers once more, this time paying far more attention to the sensation than cleanliness required, and a pleasant shiver travelled through my lower body while my free hand instinctively pressed against the tiled wall.
For perhaps five seconds, I forgot entirely about Vale Group, Sera, makeup, skirts, Awakening assessments, and assassination attempts.
I could very easily keep going. There was no Evelyn outside this bathroom to interrupt me this time, and no reason I couldn’t discover exactly how this body reacted if I gave it a little more attention.
My fingers moved again.
Then I remembered who actually was outside.
Sera.