Sink In

Paige

I pulled Tom into the huge master bathroom, still attached at the lips like we had been since he kissed me on the shooting range out back. With one fumbling hand, I switched on the tap in the bathtub.

He smiled. “I thought we were showering.”

I kissed his five o’clock shadow. “I thought you needed a little more relaxation.”

He started to reply, but I pulled off my shirt and bra in one smooth motion, and his mouth fell open.

“Whatever you say,” he mumbled.

I laughed. The bags under his eyes, how hard he took the death of Phil’s wife, they all worried me. I’d been working so hard that I hadn’t even noticed his exhaustion. So I unfastened the many buttons on his shirt with careful hands and kissed every inch of newly exposed skin while the tub filled.

He groaned. “We have to shut the tub off sometime.”

I rolled my eyes, but I had taken long enough that the water sloshed dangerously high. I flipped the water off again and looked at him. Despite his exhaustion, he glistened, all tone