He reached down with his free hand, and traced the lines of her body from her collarbone, between her breasts, over the curve of her belly and dipping between her thighs to bring her to the edge again.

“I think you might kill me,” she moaned.

“But it will be a fun way to go,” he told her, snapping his hips.

She nodded and he could feel her tightening around him once more. A coil of pleasure sparked to life at the base of his spine, and he could feel it building, echoing the ripples of the water around them. Knowing he was close, his rubbing became even more frantic, because he was not going to leave her unsatisfied. He plucked and soothed and stroked, until he felt her slide into one last good climax. She screamed, her nails digging into his arms. He bent and propped his forehead against hers, his hips stuttering to their conclusion.

They stayed, joined together under the water, breathing heavily, waiting for their hearts to stop pounding. Zed carefully slid out of her, cradling her against his chest while her feet floated freely. As her breathing returned to normal, he poured his honey-and-milk shampoo into his hand and working it through her hair. She was practically purring by the time he worked the lather all the way down to the tips.

“You are the very best person to have water sex with.”

“Thank you, it’s true,” he agreed.

She snorted.

He formed her hair into a thick, foamy coil on top of her head, and then tried to make it stand up like the Eiffel Tower. That was what you did in adult relationships, right?

“So that thing you said about your urge to publish being hereditary, what did that mean?” he asked.

“You picked up on that one little detail weeks ago and held on to it? And chose to bring it up now?”

“You don’t hold still long enough for me to ask you questions most of the time!”

She conceded, “This is also true.”

“Come on. Tell me something real.” Zed took the cup that he used for his own hair-washing and filled it with water, rinsing out her hair.

“Okay, so, I originally studied physics in college, which is how I got interested in my talent in the first place, kinetic energy and all that. But I knew that I wasn’t interested in getting my PhD. My mom has several of them, and they don’t seem to have made her any happier. But I do like to write academic papers, which is why I’m working on the book. You know, publish or perish, that whole thing.”

Zed stared at her, remembering the process Jillian had described in getting her own PhD. “Your mother has several doctorates?”