Chapter 465: Love

She crossed the rest of the distance between them the next second

He held out a hand and without waiting for any speech, she took it.

The water took them with a hush. He sat first and drew her down between his knees, her back to his chest.

Heat found the ache and unclenched it by degrees. She let her head fall to his shoulder. One of his hands spread over her stomach; the other cupped water and poured it over her collarbone, her breasts, the places his mouth had been.

Amelia’s breath left her in a long, undefended thread.

This was almost worse than the act. No performance left. Just being washed by someone she loved.

"Too warm?"

"No. That’s, don’t stop." She watched his hand move through the water. "I used to think a man in a room like this only ever meant I should already be leaving. My body is still trying to learn a new sentence."

"Give it the time it wants. They’re bad men yes, but no matter what happens I’ll be here for you..."

A small laugh steamed in the air. "You’re very calm for someone who just knocked my nervous system off its chair, I’ve never experienced orgasm before but that was pretty intense... You hit the right spot every single time..."

"Its because I’m paying attention." Another slow sheet of water down her arm. "That’s all I’ve got for a method."

"Is that the official line?"

"That’s what I’m doing." A pause. "If I start acting calm instead of being it, tell me. I don’t want to play nurse."

She found the edge of his jaw. "You’re not. That’s the problem. You’re actually here, and it’s inconveniently sincere."

"I’ll try to be less impressive."

"Don’t you dare."

They stayed until the last of the trembling left her muscles. Steam beaded on the mirror. Somewhere down the hall a door shut, then nothing. He washed her hair with a patience that made her throat tight, fingers working through the tangles like the afternoon belonged to them and proving anything would only ruin it.

"You don’t have to be this careful," she said, softer.

"I want to be."

"Why."

"Because you flinched when you stood up. And you didn’t make a joke of it. And I like you better when you aren’t bracing for the next thing."

She didn’t answer. Not gone. Just taking it.

When he finished she turned in the circle of his legs and gave it back, palms over his shoulders, his throat, the chest she had slept on. Nothing hurried. Nothing crude.

The tub made a private weather around them. The city was only a rumor behind frosted glass.

"Your turn," she said

He huffed against her wet hair, combing and teasing her skin and scalp, "You take really good care of your hair..."

"Very honest."

"Don’t clap."

She washed soap from his collarbone with her thumbs. "Don’t get ahead of what?"

"Send me the address to your place abroad, I want to visit you later, I’m trying to avoid wanting more time without turning it into a leash."

The old reflex wanted *don’t*. It arrived late and thin.

"You can want it," she said. "Honestly I don’t mind any route you go, leach or no leach..."

"I won’t."

"I believe you." She flicked water at his chest. "I trust the man you are... My eyes didn’t decieve me when you saved me... also don’t get used to the praise."

"Too late. I’m framing it."

When the water cooled he pulled the plug. The drain made an ordinary sound, almost kind. He stood first, found the towels, wrapped her like the wrapping was part of the same promise. Amelia leaned into terry cloth and into him, damp and clean and quietly rearranged.

He dried her hair with clumsy care, more thorough than elegant. She let him. When he reached her shoulders she caught his wrist.

"Stay a minute."

"I’m not going anywhere. The toilet lid’s our last romantic destination."

They sat on it like two people who had run out of ceremony, her in the towel, him with another slung around his hips. Her knee rested against his. The furniture was aggressively unsexy. It didn’t matter.

"I keep waiting to feel stupid," she said.

"Do you?"

"No. That’s the strange part. I feel used up in the right way. Tired. Not hunted."

Stan nodded once. "Good."

"If I go quiet later, it isn’t you."

"I know."

"You don’t. But I like that you say it like you mean to find out."

He smiled, small and real. "Then I’ll find out. Slowly. You can grade that too."

She leaned her forehead to his. Wet hair. Hotel soap. The faint leftover heat of the bath.

"Let’s waste a little more time," she murmured.

"Then we dress," he said. "And I take you as far as you’ll let me. You can change the distance at any traffic light."

"Romantic."

"You get what I meant damn... I didn’t even need to explain... Give me a good kiss with every red light we met.."

She blushed and nodded against his chest. The old hatred of men stayed quiet. The new thing sat in her like warm water that had decided, for now, to stay.

They did not dress at once. He found her shirt first and handed it over without looking away, then looked away anyway when she asked him to, because asking still counted. She buttoned slowly. He watched the window instead of her hands. When she was done she stepped back into his arms for no reason except that she could.

"I love this, I love spending time with you, I love you, I love you soo much," she said, almost to herself.

"I love you too," he said. "You made my day brighter..."

Amelia found herself blushing once again...

Outside, the city went on being a city. Inside, the room kept its quiet a little longer, and neither of them asked it for a speech.