“I already showered. You’re the one who got home late.” I placed the cloth down and turned toward him, leaning back against the counter. Suddenly, every bit of his attention focused on me. He stilled, water flowing over the carved muscles of his chest and thighs. “What?” I asked, cocking my head. “Home?” he asked, his voice husky and low, but I heard him. I hadn’t even thought about it. The word had slipped out easily. I stared into the deep gray of his eyes and realized that he had become my home. I didn’t bother trying to hide it. I was a terrible liar, anyway. “That’s what it feels like
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