“I forgot that was on my face.” A slight laugh in his husky voice, his eyes sleepy with lust. “You can wipe it on my towel.” His hand guided hers down, down to the towel wrapped around his waist, to press against the straining hard length of him. She curled her hand around him, could feel the pulsing heat through the thick fabric.

Need, longing, and unspoken words built a logjam in her throat. “You’re so damned beautiful,” she murmured, when what she really wanted to say was I think I love you . . . And that realization caused her eyes to flutter shut and her head to fall backward to rest against the cool wall. I love him. Oh God. I am in love for the first time in my life. And the enormity of the revelation caused her eyes to fill with the beauty of it. Fear was there, as well, of the vulnerability and the possibility of being broken in two.

He left her hand wrapped around his cock and returned to his exploration of her face. “You slay me.” His voice was a soft rumble as he brushed a gentle kiss on her closed eyelids, which made her knees weaken. She could feel him trace her eyebrows with his thumbs. His warm, sweet breath caressed her face, a hint of mint. He must have brushed his teeth. She still couldn’t open her eyes. It would be too much, too overwhelming. He would see the truth in her eyes. The shaving cream was gone from his jawline, but she could still smell the scent of it on his face, could feel the creamy thickness of it on her hand, between her fingers. Bergamot and something else, apple, perhaps, mingled with his freshly showered skin. His callused fingertips continued their exploration of her face, down her cheeks and throat, causing tingling trails in their wake, as she memorized the shape and feel and heft of him through the towel. He returned to her mouth so his lips could caress hers, back and forth, as if by the lightest of touches he was better able to imprint the taste and texture of her on his lips. Back and forth, softly, sweetly, like a whispered prayer.