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“Dan’s dumb sense of humor when he saw the tub after I moved in.”

“Remind me to thank Dan and his perfect sense of humor.” Braxton turns to leave, shaking his head, but as he reaches for the doorknob I stop him. “Braxton?” I pull my hair back and lift it on top of my head. The move brings my breasts above the bubbly waterline. “Can you help me with something?”

His head hits the door and I laugh as he groans.

“What?”

“In my bathroom, on my counter, I have a hair tie. Can you please grab it for me?”

He looks at me over his shoulder, but his gaze sticks to my breasts. “Hair tie?” he asks my boobs.

“Mm-hmm.”

“Sure. Be right back.” He’s still talking to my breasts.

Men. I’m not sure they ever grow up, but I like this. I’ve had so few lovers, I’ve never fully been comfortable with them, or the act of sex. It’s something to me that should be explored with the most intimate of relationships, where there’s one hundred percent trust. I’m not sure I’ve ever trusted myself, much less my partner, to fully be able to let go.

Braxton taught me months ago I’m able to. It’s why it’s so surprising to me, still, that that night was so incredibly mind-blowing. Now, in his bathtub, in his bathroom, and living with him, I have no nerves about being with him again.

It helps that he looks at me, even fully clothed, like he’s seeing me naked, and enjoys what he sees.

—

I’m slipping into sleep mode, still warm in the bathtub, when Braxton returns from walking Lucy. His presence in the bathroom is a physical feeling, and I know before he’s ever walked into the room that he’s ditched his clothes before entering. There’s a heaviness in the air, a sense of expectation that makes me slide my eyes open.

And I’m not disappointed in what I see. All his ink across his chest, down his arms, over his pecs only accentuates the curved muscles and the dips of his abdomen. He has a dark, thin trail of hair down the center of his stomach that thickens as it reaches his lower abdomen, spreading out to where he keeps himself perfectly trimmed and shaved around his beautiful dick that’s already semihard. He’s the perfect masculine specimen with a dick that’s thicker than average, the perfect length that you know will feeloh so beautifully goodbut not painfully so.

I stare at him like he stared at my breasts. “Lucy okay?”

“Eating. Move forward and stop staring at my dick.”

“No,” I reply, grinning, and shift forward. I lose sight of him for a brief second before his entering the tub behind me creates waves in the water.

He settles behind me, moving his legs to the outside of mine, and then his arms are wrapped around me, the palms of his hands settled softly against my stomach.

“Every time I touch you here I’m overwhelmed,” he whispers. “Does it ever hurt?”

His voice is so awed, I melt against him. He treats me like I’m his precious gift, and there’s so much about each other we don’t know. “No.” I cover his hands with mine. “Mostly I just feel full, I guess, is the way to explain it.”

“We really need to get that book Jenna was talking about. I feel like I don’t know a thing, and I want to know everything.”

Tears swell in my eyes. Hormones and Braxton’s sweetness the sure cause. “I was so terrified to come and talk to you to tell you. I’m sorry I waited so long.”

“Forgiven.” His lips press against the top of my head, and he reclines back so my back is pressed to his chest, my head at his shoulder. “Just don’t make me miss anything else.”

I can feel his smile against my temple, and I nod, but I’m too emotional to speak. This man. He’s being supportive and so confident everything will be okay, thatwewill somehow make a relationship work, I want to bottle all of it so I can douse myself with it when I need it.

Or, maybe I can do what I’m doing now.

Learn to rest against Braxton when I’m feeling weak, when I need someone at my side and at my back, supporting me and helping me along.

It seems so easy in here, with the warmth of the water and the strength in his arms and the calming scent of lavender.

Is it possible it’s this easy? That a relationship with someone can be this relaxing and inspiring?

I desperately want to find out.

“We should get out of here,” I say, when my lids begin to feel heavy and my limbs are relaxed. “There were other reasons why I wanted you to bring me upstairs, you know.”