“Are you okay?” I ask, and she nods.

“Yeah, it actually feels really good. But I think that water is gonna feel even better.”

“That’s what I was hoping you’d say. Do you have any bubble bath or bath bombs or anything like that?”

She nods and taps the under-sink cabinet with one of her dangling feet. “Yeah, in here.”

I kneel beside her, my eyes drawn to her still-wet pussy, and kiss the tip of her knee as I open the cabinet to search for something to put in the water. Just like she said, there are several individually wrapped bath bombs resting inside, so I grab one and tear open the packaging, then toss it into the water with a splash. The water hisses as the bomb starts to dissolve, filling the room with the sound.

“There we go,” I say as I scoop her back into my arms. It’s uncommon, especially in apartments these days, but hers actually has a bathtub that’s big enough to hold both of us.

She links her hands around my neck, and I step over the lip of the tub. The hot water rises up my legs, and it already feels great, so I can only imagine how amazing it’s going to feel for her when we sink into it. The water displaces as we lower ourselves under the surface, rising up over both of our chests. While Hannah adjusts to the temperature, I reach around her to switch off the faucet.

“It’s sweet of you to draw a bath for me like this,” she says as she draws circles in the bubbles with her fingertips. I kiss the back of her shoulder.

“I want to take care of you and make sure you’re not too sore later. We went pretty hard.”

“You’ve already taken perfect care of me,” she says, although she tips her head backward to rest it on my shoulder. Her eyes stare up into mine, and I kiss her forehead.

“I know, but I want to do more. Will you let me?”

Smiling, Hannah nods, so I wrap my hands around her waist to pull her body closer to mine. She’s sitting between my legs, her knees pulled up to her chest. I scoop some of the water and bubbles into one hand and spill it over both of her shoulders. My fingers find their way to her beautiful hair, and I run them through it. She sighs contentedly against me, her eyes fluttering shut.

“Can I wash your hair?”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I know, hummingbird. Believe it or not, I want to,” I tell her. “I really fucking want to.”

Her eyes open again, something unreadable passing through them for a moment, and then she nods again.