Maddox turned the water off and reached for one of Blair's towels.
It was the kind of soft that made you angry because you knew you'd been using inferior towels your entire existence and nobody had told you.
He wrapped it around Guinevere and dried her gently like she was something precious.
She stood there and let him do it. The trust required to stand still while a man dried every inch of her skin was the kind of trust that lived below thought, in the part of her that recognized him even when her memories didn't.
He grabbed a short silk robe from the hook behind the door. Navy. He held it open for her and she slid her arms in and the silk hit her skin like cool water. He tied it at her waist, one pull, snug, with the practiced ease of a man who had done this before even if neither of them could remember when.
Guinevere looked down at the robe then at the towels, then grinned so wide it made him smile too.
"What is so funny?" he asked, as he dried himself off.
