Once they were clean, he turned off the water and dried her tenderly with a plush towel, patting rather than rubbing, taking care with every sensitive area. Then he carried her back to the bedroom, laying her carefully on the fresh side of the bed where the sheets were still cool and unwrinkled.
He retrieved massage oil from the nightstand drawer, expensive stuff, scented with lavender and chamomile. His hands worked expertly over her lower back and waist, knowing from experience that she'd be significantly sore tomorrow.
The massage was thorough and methodical, his strong fingers kneading the tension from her muscles, working out knots before they could fully form, preparing her body for the inevitable aches.
