No matter how much time she spent against that wall, her breathing would not slow nor her heart rate decrease. Her mind was filled with the touch, the feel, of his lips upon hers and his arms around her waist. Even his smell lingered in her nose. She mentally cursed herself the more she dwelled.<br/><br/>The water had been running for a time noticeably much longer than deemed normal to clean oneself, the temperature having risen quite high, by the time she finally entered the shower. The nymph hoped that by allowing herself to feel the water it would erase the sensations from her skin.<br/><br/>But it did no such thing.<br/><br/>Lim’s body was still heated from the kiss, the heat of the water only building upon it. If her mind was having its difficulties before in trying to rid his image from her brain, now it was seared into it in more ways than one. She was restless, and her imagination played with the idea of what would have happened if she hadn’t run from him. As her eyes closed, her hands trailed downwards, tracing her wet skin as they reached the tip where her legs divided. Was she really going to do this? While thinking of<i>him</i>? She questioned it mentally, but her subconscious mind answered: yes. And then, with circular motions upon her nub, she leaned against the wall of the shower, and small gasps breathed out from between her lips, imagining his rough hands still on her frame, and his soft lips still grazing over hers.