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Once my hair is thoroughly lathered, he guides me under the spray to rinse. I turn to face him as the suds wash away, wrapping my arms around his neck.

"Let me wash yours," I say, reaching for the shampoo.

He has to bend down slightly for me to reach his hair properly. I rub the shampoo through his hair, enjoying the intimacy of the moment. There's something profoundly vulnerable about washing someone's hair, a tenderness that feels almost more intimate than the sex we just had.

"You know," he says as I rinse his hair, "this is the first time I've had a woman in this shower who wasn't just a groupie or a one-night stand."

"Is that supposed to make me feel special?" I tease, though I'm secretly pleased.

"You are special," he says, suddenly serious. "From the moment I saw you in that crowd, I knew you were different."

I reach for the body wash, partly to hide how his words affect me. "Different good or different bad?"

"Definitely good." He takes the body wash from me. "Though you're going to be the death of my ego."

"Your ego could use the challenge," I reply, gasping as his soapy hands slide over my breasts.

"Probably true."

We take our time washing each other, exploring our slick skin, and stealing kisses under the warm spray. What starts as playful quickly turns heated again, his hands finding their way between my thighs.

"Again?" I ask, breathless as his fingers circle my still-sensitive clit.

"I told you.” He murmurs against my neck, "I'm insatiable when it comes to you."

Twenty minutes later, we finally come out from the shower, my legs shaky from another intense orgasm. Axl wraps me in a fluffy towel and presses a kiss to my forehead.

"I could get used to this," he says softly.

I don't respond, not trusting myself to say something I might regret. Instead, I focus on drying off and wringing the excess water from my curls.

"I should probably get dressed," I say, glancing at the clock on his bedside table. It's nearly midnight.

"I might have something you can wear," Axl offers, disappearing into his massive closet.

He returns with a soft black t-shirt emblazoned with his band's logo and a pair of sweatpants with a drawstring waist.

"These will be huge on you, but it's better than putting that dress back on," he says, handing them to me.

I slip the shirt over my head, and it falls almost to my knees, and I have to roll the waistband of the sweatpants several times until they somewhat stay up. The effect is comical, and Axl bursts out laughing when he sees me.

"You look like a kid playing dress-up," he teases, pulling on a pair of jeans.

I stick my tongue out at him. "Not all of us are built like rock gods."

"Rock gods?" He raises an eyebrow as a smug smile plays on his lips. "I like the sound of that."

"Don't let it go to your head," I warn, attempting to tame my damp curls into some semblance of order.

"Too late." He pulls me against his still-bare chest to kiss me deeply.

When we break apart, I'm breathless again. "If you keep that up, we'll never leave."

"Would that be so terrible?" he asks, his hands sliding down to cup my ass through the baggy sweatpants.

"Mm, tempting," I admit, and press a quick kiss to his lips before stepping back. "But I promised I'd be back, and I don't want the guys to send out a search party."

Axl sighs dramatically and releases me. "Fine. I suppose I should return you before your other suitors break down my door."