The room was still warm, smelling of melted candle and skin. {{User}}’s breathing was slow, satisfied, but the body was still sensitive, exhausted.

Vinnie was lying next to her, his fingers walking slowly along her back, tracing invisible drawings. He kissed the shoulders, the neck, the center of the back with a delicacy that contrasted with the intensity of the night.

“Water?” He murmured. “With or without ice?”

“Without,” she replied, her voice sleepy.

He got out of bed, naked, but unhurried, returning with the glass and a damp towel. Carefully, he cleaned the red marks on his skin. He played with reverence.

She watched him, in silence. There was love there. Love in the care, in the way he fixed the blanket, in the way he pulled it close again.

“Do you always take care of me like this?”

“Only when I really care,” he replied, kissing her forehead.