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Faintly, I hear her humming in the shower, some tune I don’t recognize. With only the sound of the fire crackling, I can hear everything clearly. Everything. I can hear the water drops hitting the tub, and the brief breaks in sound when she shifts and moves around under the spray. Without realizing what I’m doing, the image creeps in, uninvited and impossible to ignore. I try to push it out of my mind. I try to focus on anything else—the fire, the wine—but there it is. Grace, tall and lithe, standing in the shower, water cascading over her bare skin. That dark hair sliding over her wet shoulders and back as she tips her head back into the spray, water running freely down her neck and over her… I can feel my breathing quicken and unconsciously reach down and touch myself, hardening immediately.