Daniel woke first. His body ached pleasantly—every muscle alive with memory. He turned to see Emma sprawled across the bed, hair tangled, one arm thrown over the pillow, softly snoring. She looked peaceful. Angelic. And, judging by how she’d pulled him back to bed “just one more time,” slightly dangerous.
He slipped quietly from under the covers and headed for the bathroom. A hot shower seemed the only cure for his foggy exhaustion. As steam filled the room and water pounded his shoulders, a grin crept across his face.
“Sweetheart!” he called. “Can you bring me a towel?”
A groan answered him, followed by the soft thud of bare feet on carpet. The door creaked open.
“You forget something, husband of the year?” came Emma’s sleepy voice.
“Just a towel,” he said, extending a hand through the steam.
She chuckled, pushing the door open wider. “You could’ve remembered that before your shower marathon.” She held out the towel—but her eyes drifted downward as droplets ran down his chest.Continue reading…
