The prompt was bath.
Candlelight glimmering. She closes her eyes and tilts her head back to rest against the back of the copper tub.
He lifts the heavy bowl of warm water and tips it over her head, careful to make sure the water flows over her long, lustrous hair instead of over her face.
He runs his hands through each lock, squeezing the lavender-smelling suds out of it. The water gleams with soothing, scented oils.
She opens her brown eyes, meeting his black ones. He doesn’t smile; neither does she. There is no need for it.
They know to whom they each belong.
©2018 Heather Stephens