Turning completely to the side, she hums in approval, her bare chest pressing against my stomach as she weakly wraps her arms around my torso. The blood on me is beginning to drain downward, falling to our feet, and disappearing into the drain. “The water is nice…” she moans, and I reach toward the rack that has my shampoo, and pop it open. Her hazel eyes round as I squirt it into her hair. “What?” I ask, placing it back and pulling her tighter with the arm that’s been holding her. Gently, I go to begin washing her hair. “I can wash my own hair…” she murmurs, and I’m convinced she’s not
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