"HELLO, HUSBAND...long time no see." The girl under the shower streams didn't need to speak above a whisper to be heard.
For her voice to float like a plucked harp to him was part of her abilities. She was a special kind of siren this girl—their goddess. Her words did not just enter his ear, they echoed.
Eotigan just sat there, like a virgin lad in a notorious brothel, the linen over his thighs short of his knees. The damn cloth barely covered over his balls. He had forgotten he had a wife.
"Shit." he drawled. In his defense, it had been a marriage of convenience.
