Iris
“Bath?” Arthur suggests once we’re alone in his—our—room.
I nod, and Arthur moves into the en-suite bathroom. A moment later, I hear the water running as he fills the oversized tub.
When I follow him, he’s adding bath oil to the steaming water, the scent of lavender filling the air. He turns to me, his eyes darkening when he sees me standing there.
“May I?” he asks, pointing at my shirt.
I lift my arms in answer, and he slowly pulls the fabric up and over my head before tossing it aside. His hands trace down my bare arms, raising goosebumps in their wake. I reach for the buttons of his shirt next, undoing them one by one, revealing his chest inch by inch.
But as Arthur slowly undresses me, my mind wanders back to those awful comments I read last week. “Mom bod
