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There isn’t one hanging on the rail. When he hurries to bring one back, she beckons him to soap her back, again with such a delicious smile. Ou...n hesitates, overwhelmed by the whole thing. Then he takes the soap and begins. The woman leans back his hands, her eyes shut, her breathing deep. She opens her eyes and indicates that her should do her front as well. Ouan’s hands have never felt anything like the firm softness of her body. His hands, inflamed and hot, rub and squeeze her round. Her arms encircled his waist, her breasts hardly flattening at all as they pressed against his shoulder blades. In him, the fleshiness of youth had given way to the sharp definition of hard-worked muscles. Yet unlike she with whom he rode, he was cloaked as much by wariness as weariness. He was as handsome as his companion, and for a moment she wondered if they were lovers, for she clung to him with an intimacy beyond mere practicality. Studying their faces as she drew Windfola alongside,. More

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