He wouldn’t take long. He never did. Not when he showered alone. Which he’d been doing with increasing frequency lately. Usually … She stroked through her hair again and frowned as she watched him disappear into the bathroom. Usually he took her into the shower, washed her hair and every inch of her body. Then and only then did he quickly see to his own shower, and when they were done, he’d dry her body and her hair and then she’d await his next instruction. Chill bumps danced across her skin at the memory of some of those instructions. One simply never knew with Max. His power and his confidence enticed her. His dominance gave her a measure of comfort nothing else could. In his arms, she was free to be herself. He was her center, her anchor. A safe haven for her free spirit and wanderlust. Because no matter where she went, where she was, if she was with Max, she was home. She continued to brush her hair even though there wasn’t a single knot and the strands were starting to fuzz out from static electricity.
