“You know, I’ve actuallynever heard that before,” I said, grinning. Quinn made me smile. He made mewantto smile, whichwas both different and worse.
“It’s not the size,” Iadded. “It’s the force. You can only get so much leverage with your own hand.”
“So you admit this is yourfault?”
Soft footsteps echoed offthe tiles as he made his way over, pausing where I was kneeling at the foot ofthe tub, still fiddling with the taps.
“It is. Hence the bath,” Isaid.
I’d dug up a packet oflavender and chamomile bath salts, which Quinn picked up to inspect.
“I’d forgotten I had these.”
“Not surprised,” I said. “Iknew I was on the right track when I opened a cupboard and was assaulted bybath bombs.”
“Sorry.” Quinn set thepacket back down, leaving me to open it and pluck out one single-use sachet.
The scent of lavender filledthe room as soon as the salts touched the water, fizzing and then melting in.
This was what he needed.
One last test, and the waterwas warm enough now.
“You could hop in, if youwanted. No sense standing there getting cold.”
Quinn looked at the tub,then at me, then at the tub again.
I stood, holding out a handfor him. “Goon.”
A tiny smile spread over hisface as he gripped my hand and stepped into the warm water. A soft, blissfulsigh escaped him as I helped him sink down, followed by a tiny groan as theheat got to work on sore muscles.
“Oh, this isgood,” Quinn said,laying his head back against the rim of the tub, where I’d folded a hand towelto act as a pillow.
“Better than sex?” I teased,shutting the taps off now that I was satisfied with the water level. We couldalways add more warm water if he wanted to soak longer.
“Tough call,” he said. “Itwouldn’t be as goodwithoutthe sex. I ache in places I didn’t know Ihad.”
“Sorry.”
The salts had clouded thewater, just enough that I could only make out the general shape of Quinn’s body in it,the details shrouded in mystery.
I remembered him, though.Naked and beautiful in the low light. Equally beautiful in the midday sun, Ihad no doubt. I couldn’t get the thought out of my head, and it was astrangely innocent one to be stuck with. The picture of Quinn letting meundress him, my own hands brushing over his soft skin, discovering every curveand crook of his body all over again.
I could have touched him forhours. Days.
“Don’t be,” he responded,leaning back in the tub and closing his eyes. “You didn’thurtme. I just… hurt.”
“I’ll never hurt you,” Ipromised, and I meant it. The thought of hurting Quinn—even without meaningto—made my stomach twist. Actuallydoingit would have been beyondme.
“I know,” Quinn said, shiftinghis weight. “Are yousureyou won’t get in with me?”
“Positive,” I said, temptingas the offer was. “But I will wash your hair for you, if you’ll let me,” Iadded, retrieving the jug I’d liberated from the kitchen.
“Really?” Quinn asked.
“Really. If you don’t mind.”
“I don’t mind,” Quinnconfirmed. “But you don’thaveto.”
