He slipped quietly from under the covers and headed for the bathroom. A hot shower seemed the only cure for his foggy exhaustion. As steam filled the room and water pounded his shoulders, a grin crept across his face.
Then it hit him—he’d forgotten a towel. Rookie mistake.
A groan answered him, followed by the soft thud of bare feet on carpet. The door creaked open.
“You forget something, husband of the year?” came Emma’s sleepy voice.
“Just a towel,” he said, extending a hand through the steam.
She chuckled, pushing the door open wider. “You could’ve remembered that before your shower marathon.” She held out the towel—but her eyes drifted downward as droplets ran down his chest.
Daniel froze, half amused, half modest. “What?”
Emma tilted her head, squinting in mock seriousness. “Wait… what’s that?”
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