"You're always right," Alaric praised, his lips quirking into a small smile.
The two retreated to the bath chamber, where steam soon filled the air. They slid into the warm water together, the heat enveloping them as the chill of the rain faded.
The silence between them was comfortable, their movements languid as they bathed each other.
Alaric's hands roamed her body, careful but deliberate, gliding the soapy water over her skin.
Salviana closed her eyes, savoring the intimate attention, her fingers tracing light patterns over his chest in return. Their gazes occasionally met, and the quiet spoke volumes.
After washing away the day's tension, they stepped from the bath. Alaric wrapped her in a soft towel, drying her skin with deliberate care.
She shivered again—not from cold, but from the intensity of his touch. He guided her to stand before the tall mirror.