Page 36 of The Little Shop of Curiosities, The Music Box Part 2

I’m about to suggest he take a seat on the sofa while I make him a cup of tea and maybe something to eat, but when I turn to ask, I find him contemplating me.

“What?”

He shakes his head and his cheeks pink slightly, a welcome colour after the paleness earlier. Taking my hand, he leads me through the small flat to the bathroom. I loiter in the doorway and, when he doesn’t speak, watch as he leans over the bath and runs the taps.

Tucking my hands in my pockets, I lean against the doorframe, checking out him and the room itself as he swirls his hand in the rising water to check the temperature. At the end of the bath is a row of glass bottles that seem to be filled with herbs, flowers, and various liquids. They have labels written in an elegant scrawl that I assume is Harrison’s.

After a moment, he picks up a bottle, uncorks the top, and sprinkles something that looks like a mix of dried herbs and flower petals into the water. Then he picks up another bottle and tips in a light purple liquid. The relaxing scent of lavender fills the air, along with a few others I can’t quite place.

Finally, Harrison rises and, looking over his shoulder, reaches for me. Taking his hand, I allow him to draw me into the room and then stand still, watching his determined expression with a small smile hovering on my lips, as he slips my suit jacket off my shoulders and drops it to the floor.

“Something you want, Prickles?”

“You,” he says simply.

My heart almost stops.

He hooks his fingers in my loosened tie and slides it down until it unknots, then that too is discarded. Next is my shirt, and he doesn’t seem to be in any hurry at all; he opens the buttons one by one and strips it off. He inhales and stares at my chest for a pause, then cards his fingers through the dark dusting of hair.

“It feels like forever since we’ve been naked together,” he murmurs, and I can’t help myself. I lean down and take his lips in a soft kiss while still allowing him to set the pace.

He opens his mouth on a quiet hum of pleasure and tangles his tongue with mine. It’s a slow and lazy kiss, not so much a prelude to something else as refamiliarising himself with the taste and touch of me.

I’m in no hurry either. We deserve this. Everything has been so crazy since Christmas and Viv’s murder. Neither of us have been able to put ourselves first. So I savour this bubble of time we’ve found.

He pulls back and unbuckles my belt, then unfastens my trousers, dragging both them and my boxers down.

I kick them off, stripping off my socks as I go, and add it all to the growing pile of clothes behind me. Once I’m fully naked, I straighten and let him look his fill. I’m pleased to see his flushed cheeks and the appreciation in his eyes.

Grasping the bottom of his sweater, I meet his eyes, a question in mine. When he nods and lifts his arms, I pull it up and over his head. Next is his neatly knotted tie and shirt, which I toss onto the pile, then I make quick work of stripping him down and watch as he lifts one leg and steps into the bath, beckoning for me to follow.

It takes a bit of manoeuvring because this bathtub really isn’t designed for two fully grown men, even if Harrison is on the small side, but eventually I’m settled back and Harrison is between my legs, leaning his back against my chest. One of my legs is hooked over the side of the bath not attached to the wall and his feet are propped up on the wall at the end of the bath to make us fit, but it’s admittedly kinda nice. I’ve never been squashed in a bath with someone before.

I watch as a piece of something that resembles a thistle flower minus the spikes floats past followed by a bunch of leaves.

“I’ve never taken a bath with potpourri before.” I chuckle.

“It’s good for you,” Harrison replies, and lifts a washcloth off the edge of the bath, dunking it in the fragrant water.

“I didn’t say I didn’t like it, Prickles.” I smile against his damp hair and pluck the wet cloth from his hand.

Harrison melts even further into me with a sigh of contentment as I slowly drag the cloth over his chest and arms.

“How’s your mum doing?” he asks after a while. “Have you spoken to her?”

“She’s doing well. I try to check in with her regularly, but honestly, Trev is taking such good care of her. She seems a lot happier now that they’ve finally admitted how they feel about each other. I mean, it only took twenty years.”

I treasure the sound of his soft laugh; it warms my belly. I’m pretty sure I’m one of only a couple of people that Harrison allows to see this softer side of him.

“Better late than never,” he murmurs. Taking my hand, he traces the water droplets along my fingers.

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“How are your dads?” I ask.

“Currently lounging about in Speedos, sipping margaritas, and cruising around the Caribbean.”