The fire was so warm as he lay her down, dressed only in the large towel, a few beads of water still clinging to her skin, missed as he dried her off after her bath.
She felt like a priestess, a goddess, like Cleopatra, she had been bathed in warmth and heavenly scents. Her skin was so soft, the smell of wild roses, and jasmine still clinging to her.
Nothing about tonight was hurried. Tonight…
By the light of the fire