After their bath, Nyrielle carried a noticeably pale Ashlynn into their bedroom, wrapping her tenderly in a soft, fluffy towel before setting her on a plush chaise beside the hearth.
"Just looking at you, I'm tempted to fetch my paints," Nyrielle said while admiring the soft golden glow and deep shadows that danced across the surface of Ashlynn's skin. "We could keep the night to ourselves. There's no rush for anything."
"It's tempting," Ashlynn said. She allowed herself to sink into the plush chaise, listening to the crackle and pop of the fire in the hearth while soaking in its warmth. She'd allowed Nyrielle to drink deeply enough that she felt a bit lethargic. The idea of nodding off while Nyrielle painted her carried tremendous appeal.
