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sex, more than the friendship, she couldn't deny the fact that she was already bound to him. In her heart he was her husband.
    "I need a shower," she handed him the serving tray.
    "Take one in my shower." He sat the tray on the chest at the end of the bed. "I'll help you."
    She frowned at him. "Like you helped me last night? I do not think so." She remembered how rough he had been when he rubbed her body.
    "Sorry about that. I was full of anger and fear. I'll be gentle." He held up his right hand. "I swear."
    "Well since you swear to be good."
    "Babe, I said nothing about being good," he winked. "I'm too hard to just be good."
    "Maybe we should get you a concubine," she snorted.
    He pulled her close to him. His chest pressed against her back. "I don't want anybody else. I don't need anybody else."
    She ran her fingers along his forearm. "Good," she whispered as she leaned back against him, settling deeper. She knew he would want her to talk more about her family. But for now she just wanted this, this moment with him without talk of the past, her past and her pain.
    She felt his hand slide over her stomach and move lower. "No," she shook her head. "Shower."
    He chuckled. "I can do it there too." He grabbed on to her hand and pulled her into the master bathroom.
    "I've never seen one like this before," she pointed to the walk-in glass block shower.
    "After Natalie died I wanted to change everything in here that reminded me of her." He stripped off his pants, walked into the shower and started the water. Water shot out form several sides and overhead as he walked back out. "It'll warm up quick." He smiled.
    "So you changed things yourself?"
    "Yeah. I started with the bedroom. Ditched the canopy bed for the cherry wood sleigh bed. Ripped up the carpet and put down wood flooring. Changed the wall color. All of it. Then I came in here and took out the Victorian tub she wanted. Ripped out the vanity sinks and built this.
    "This is beautiful." She loved the modern sink. Just enough counter space for a few needed items like toothpaste and the likes. Stone tile floors in a gray color. The toilet was black, and there was a window. She hadn't seen a bathroom with a window before.
    "Come on," he took her hand.
    "You wanted to forget her?"
    "I was angry as hell at her." He guided her into the shower. "She gave up on us and I was pissed. I took it out on the house."
    "I'm sorry..."
    "Don’t be;" He took a bar of soap and lathered his hands before rubbing them over her body. "I grieved my way. I had lost my son, buried him without his mother because she wouldn't leave the house. Then, a month later I buried her."
    "Was she sick?"
    "No. Not really. She just gave up. I couldn't get her to eat or drink anything. Couldn't get her out of bed. I wasn't home that day." He stroked her, and despite the topic of conversation she felt the distraction of arousal.
    "She had asked Tayla to brink her something for her headache. Tayla took up the bottle of pills and some water and went back downstairs like she was told. When I got here I found Natalie in the tub." He sighed. "I thought she was sleep, but when I felt the cool water I knew. I knew before checking for her pulse. Then I saw the empty bottle."
    "Poor Tayla." She knew how Tayla must have felt, the pain of blaming herself.
    "It took a year of therapy, but she finally understood it wasn’t her fault. She's still fragile though."
    She shook her head. "And then to see me..." She hadn't been thinking of what her breakdown had done to them.
    "She'll be okay. She was worried about you. She thought you'd leave us the same way."
    Understanding flickered in her gaze. "You were worried too." It explained his force as he pulled her from the bed, made her shower and made her take the first bite of food.
    He teased her nipple between his fingers. "I'm still worried."

    "I won't put you two through that again." She knew the pain all too well and she wouldn't be the cause of it.
    "You have to talk about it,