Upon seeing the sight of his erect cock, Miss Claire paused… but it was only for a moment.
The water lapped quietly against the porcelain sides of the tub, steam still rising in soft ribbons between them, carrying the faint scent of the mild soap she had used on his shoulders and chest.
Her expression did not shift into anything obvious—no widened eyes, no sudden flush across her cheeks—yet the brief stillness of her hands told him she had registered the full extent of his arousal.
Then, as if the pause had never occurred, she asked softly, "May I ask that you stand… so I may help with your legs next."
A part of Don was embarrassed, though not greatly.
They were both naked, the water hiding nothing of either of them, and the reaction of his body was natural after the proximity of her hands, the heat, the lingering ache of healed wounds and the simple fact of being alive.
