It's a simple gesture, but there's something about the way he does it... Something deeply masculine.
I swallow again, slower this time.
My gaze rises without me being able to help it, his straight, relaxed, but firm posture.
His shoulders wide under the fabric of his shirt, which is now slightly adjusted by the way he moves his arms.
His neck, his jawline marked as he looks down at what he's doing.
Even the way his breathe... calm, constant.
Everything in him transmits that security that has always characterized him, that control, that presence.
My eyes return to his hands, to the water sliding over his skin. To the foam that slowly disappears as he rinses the dish.
And then I remember again... The way those same hands touched me a little while ago.
The heat, the firmness. I close
