–Livana–
My poor husband must be exhausted. It had been a quick love-making session after our bath—so quick, in fact, he forgot to lather me with lotion. He almost didn't even make me climax. Almost.
I ran my fingers through his damp hair, slowly drying it with the hair blower while he drifted in and out of sleep. His breathing was shallow, warm against my skin. He murmured something I couldn't quite catch—muddled words lost between sleep and satisfaction.
Once his hair felt dry beneath my fingers, I quietly walked to the dresser and returned the blower to its place. I changed into my home clothes—soft cotton that whispered over my skin as I moved. My hand brushed along the familiar textures of the fabric, grounding me.
I turned my attention back to my husband. He was still fast asleep, his breathing steady, his chest rising and falling in a calm rhythm. Dinner wouldn't be ready for another three hours. Let him rest, I thought—and so, I let myself nap beside him.
