“I can handle this,” she said. “Why don’t you go shower?”
Noah gave her an appraising look. “All right,” he said.
He helped AJ bring the plates in then disappeared into the enormous darkened house. Alone, AJ moved to calm herself. She did the dishes, then cleaned and covered the grill.
Noah reappeared ten minutes later in a fresh charcoal-colored T-shirt and sweatpants, his hair damp from bathing. AJ was retrieving the dolphin candelabra as he and Bud emerged on the patio for the dog’s nighttime outing.
“Hey,” he said, an unmistakable edge in his voice.
“Hey,” said AJ. She watched him follow Bud to a low hedge, her heart loud in her ears.
There was something comfortingly ridiculous about the dolphins; AJ didn’t want to blow them out. So instead, with great care and a feeling of being one with the Brontë sisters, she carried the lit candelabra upstairs. The bedroom was spartan—Noah had tidied up, sheets tucked in with military precision.
AJ entered the bathroom and started the tap on the soak tub. She placed the candelabra beside the sink, its flames twinning in the mirror, and turned out the overhead lights. Then she stripped out of her swimsuit, topknotted her hair, and stepped into the tub. She waited.
A short time later, Noah’s footsteps padded across the bedroom carpet. As he knocked on the bathroom door, AJ could see him in the mirror, his head inclined, eyes downcast. “You good?” he asked gruffly.
“Come in,” said AJ, trying to keep her own voice even.
She watched him hesitate then enter. He had removed his shirt. AJ had spent half the day with him like this, but it didn’t matter; her mouth went dry as she took in the expanse of his bare shoulders, the powerful chest, the dark trail leading from his navel into his sweatpants. Slowly, Noah approached the tub. His face was serious as he took in her shape, soft in the low light.
“Hey there,” she said quietly.
His eyebrows lifted once. “Hey.” He lowered himself onto the floor beside her and rested his arm on the tub’s rim. The smooth skin of his bicep looked amber in the candle’s glow.
The water splashed softly as AJ sat forward. She lathered a washcloth with Noah’s honey-scented soap and ran it over her neck, her shoulders, her breasts.
“I like this tub,” she said, as suds coalesced on the water’s surface.
“It suits you,” said Noah.
Tentatively, he took the washcloth from her hands. He added more soap then dipped it in the water and placed the warm compress on her back; as he did, he caught her sternum with his other hand, the way he had backstage in Miami.
AJ closed her eyes, letting him hold her. She heard his breath hitch, and then she felt it—a fervent heat, like sun on sand, so intense she felt almost faint.
Her eyes opened wide. “Was that…you?”
His gaze was feverish. He nodded.
Her hand was on top of his now. She didn’t remember putting it there. “How?”
Noah took a breath. “Exercise, I’m guessing,” he said. “Breathing together. Those old neural pathways are pretty deeply ingrained.”
He rinsed the washcloth and began rubbing circles into her back.
“I thought it was broken.”
Noah shook his head. “I doubt it will fully come back unless we start acting again. But I think probably when we have sex—”
His hands stopped moving, and he cleared his throat. “Ifwe have sex,” he amended, and AJ felt another surge of intense lust, this time coupled with his embarrassment.
She lifted her gaze and felt the ambient sound in the room go down half a decibel. She watched his Adam’s apple throb as he read her.
“Hand me a towel?” she asked.
Her skin tingled as he dropped his hands and pulled himself to his feet. As he crossed the bathroom, AJ rose out of the water using the sides of the tub for support.
The bathroom air was cool by comparison, and AJ felt her nipples harden. Feet still submerged, she watched Noah grab a towel off the rack and walk back to her.
