He reached for a sponge nearby and dipped it in the water, wringing it out before dragging it gently over her shoulder. She hummed low in her throat.
"You know," she murmured, eyes still closed, "you're setting a dangerous precedent. I'm going to start expecting luxury baths after every beach day."
Nicholas ran the sponge down her arm, slow and easy. "Good. I like high-maintenance you."
"You like bathing me."
"Also true."
He leaned closer and kissed the top of her damp knee, which was peeking out from the water. His voice was quiet. "You look like a painting."
Ella opened her eyes just enough to catch him watching her with that look again—like nothing in the world could touch them here. Like she was sunlight in a porcelain tub, and he'd spend the rest of his life learning how to hold her without shattering.
"Get in," she said suddenly.
Nicholas blinked. "In the tub?"
"No, the wardrobe." She reached for his hand and tugged. "Of course the tub. Come on. We'll make it work."
