I sank beneath heated bubbles in a white claw-footed tub. I could get used to this. I looked up to find him watching me from the doorway, a glass of wine in each hand. He wore nothing but a pair of pyjama bottoms and his hair was wet from a quick shower in the shower stall. Dorian had insisted I let him fill the tub so I could soak. ‘Happy?’ My body was warm from the tub but still warm from pleasure too. Small aftershocks of desire sounded deep inside me and every time I let myself remember what we’d done, how it had felt, how it had ended, I felt a thrill in my stomach. ‘I am. I’ll be ecstatic if one of those is for me.’ I nodded to one of the wine glasses. ‘It’s your lucky day.’ He handed me one and sat on the lip of the tub. I took a sip and knew the wine I was drinking probably cost more than my favourite pair of shoes at home. And I’d saved for months to buy them for myself. ‘I ordered food,’ he said. ‘More food,’ I groaned, but then my stomach growled.
