60 A Tradition

Immediately, Emma covered her breasts with her hand, blushing deeper than crimson. 

Emma had never seen him fully naked. And goddess! His hair was a mess of golden curls over his head that fell over his red eyes. Her heart jolted out of her ribcage. His jaw was in need of a shave and as he closed the gap between them, she found herself staring at his mountain of muscles and that perfectly chiseled body. The way he walked to her it was as if he gave no fucks to the attention, he was drawing in. 

Emma was so taken aback that she froze in her place when he stepped in the same bathtub. Her gaze dropped to his massive shaft that was at a half mast. She tried not to stare at it for long and peeled her gaze off it. "What are you doing here?" 

He moved to sit in front of her. Then he moved her and made her sit in front of her with her back facing him. "I am taking a bath, just like you." 

"But you can't just sit here and take a bath with me!" she protested.