The Towel

After putting the laundry away, it was time to wash myself. Off to the shower!

I stepped out of my room into the hallway, wrapped only in a towel. It was long and wide, covering everything, there was nothing indecent about it. David was just on his way back from the kitchen to his study, a fresh cup of coffee in his hand. I hadn't waited for him, no, definitely not. Why would I?

He paused, looked at me. Blinked once. Twice.

I returned his gaze. Smiled. “I'm going to take a quick shower.” To prevent another mishap, I pulled the towel a little tighter. With a jerk. But maybe the jerk was a little too violent. Oops. The towel came loose at the top and slipped down. I stood there half naked.

His hand twitched forward as if to hold on to the fabric. The full coffee cup spilled, hot liquid running down the back of his hand. “Damn it!” He bit his tongue to keep from swearing out loud.

I caught the towel just in time before it could fall completely. Pulled it back up over my chest. It had only been seconds. But still...

“Nothing happened,” I giggled.

His gaze wandered back up, seeking eye contact with me again.

We stood there in silence. It felt like an eternity. His jaw moved slightly, as if he wanted to say something. But he said nothing.

Instead, he simply turned around—calm as ever—and went back into the kitchen.

But I had noticed the signs. The throbbing vein in his neck. The tension in his shoulders. And that beautiful hesitation in his steps, as if he had to **** himself to leave me behind.

I went into the bathroom, slowly closed the door behind me, and grinned.