Maximilian pulled Catherine closer against his chest.
A smile curved his lips as he breathed in her familiar scent. Her hair was still damp, and he frowned faintly at the thought of her catching a cold. He reached for the towel nearby, intending to dry it for her, but Catherine only made a sleepy little sound and nuzzled closer into him, her cheek settling against his chest as though she had no intention of letting him go.
He stopped.
The towel could wait.
For a moment, he simply held her.
He wondered if she had fallen asleep, but when he brushed the damp strands away from her shoulder, he felt her stir.
He pressed a kiss to her forehead. "How are you feeling?"
Catherine's lashes fluttered.
Maximilian already knew the answer, or thought he did.
He could still remember every little thing from earlier—the way she had clung to him, the soft sounds she had made against his shoulder, the way her fingers had tightened around him whenever the intensity became too much.
