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remaining semen, kissing his lips with slow deliberation. Her hands in his, she gave a gentle tug and guided him down into the tub.
    A small bottle of bath gel sat among shampoo and conditioner, and she pulled out the stopper and poured some into her palm. Carrie soaped his chest, the lather thick and rich, and spread it over his shoulders and along his arms. The sensual discovery of his planes and ridges, his dips and swells, had her wishing his cock was still hard beneath the water. The desire to straddle him immense, she fought it and reached for the gel again. He held up his hand and cupped it, and Carrie dribbled a pool of liquid inside the valley he’d created.
    Both of them on their knees, they cleaned one another, such a gentle, sweet exploration. Rob’s hands on her body gave her wanton imaginings, and she stared into his eyes to gauge his emotions.
    He loves me. Really loves me. God, his words in the emails were real.
    It was amazing how fate had drawn them together, how he’d popped up on a private message in that chatroom, a simple “Boo!” shifting her world on its axis. His kind words of support during her stressful divorce had made her see that not all men were bad. And she’d worried right up until she’d seen him against that lamppost at the station that he’d been stringing her along all that time. Yet here they were, as if they’d always been together, everything familiar yet so foreign, everything so right.
    Carrie let the tears of happiness fall, feeling so damn grateful she’d begun talking to him, for once trusting her instincts and ignoring friends who had warned her she was taking a risk allowing herself to fall for someone online.
    “Fairy tales do exist, don’t they?” Rob said, his voice unsteady. He lifted one soapy hand to caress her face. “I’m so lucky.”
    “Me too,” she said, her throat tight. “So very lucky.”

Chapter Three
     
     
     
    The Bed
     
    After the enlightening journey of drying one another, Rob took the towel from Carrie and hung it on the door hook. He clasped her hands and, staring into her eyes, brought them to his lips, kissing each knuckle. His action, again so gentlemanly, awed and humbled her.
    “Beautiful, that’s what you are,” he said. “My beautiful princess.”
    His tender touch as he traced the curve of her cheekbone down to her jaw made her giddy, and she sagged against his chest. Rob rested his chin on her head, and she stared into the mirror at their reflection. His eyes were closed, as though he wanted to imprint whatever he was feeling in his mind forever. She took in their bodies, fitted together so perfectly despite their hands between them, and her wide hips, wider ass and thick waist didn’t seem to matter.
    I’m beautiful .
    He opened his eyes and caught her watching. A rose blush tinged his cheeks and a shy smile followed. So many unspoken words hovered between them, over them, around them. Was he thinking the same things as she? Were they both worrying the other would give, give, give for this one night only then say goodbye? She didn’t know, only knew that she wanted time to slow, the minutes to become hours, the hours days. To never have to leave this place and face the real world outside—Rob going home to Scotland, Carrie returning to her house, lonely, a terrible, hollow void inside her.
    To thwart the imminent tears, she broke their gaze and turned to look at him.
    “Hungry?” he asked. “Should we order some food?”
    “Only if you’re hungry,” she said, leading him into the bedroom.
    At the foot of the bed, his arms encircling Carrie’s waist, he said, “No, I’m too full of you to need food.” He let out an endearingly bashful chuckle. “I just want to snuggle up with you.”
    Carrie glanced at the bed then back to him. “Shall we?” Tilting her head, she pulled him around to the side then drew back the duvet. Once on the bed, she scooted over and sat, patting the mattress. “Come here.”
    The