Page 170 of From Best Friend to Bride
“It’s not that I didn’t want to, and you know it.”
“Yeah, yeah.” She yawned. “Wake me up when the bath is done.”
“You’re going to sleep here on my lap like this?”
“Mhmm.” Her eyelashes fluttered against my neck as she closed her eyes, and I gently shook my head.
Of course she was.
Still, I let her have a ten-minute nap on my shoulder, then softly woke her up and carried her into the tub. It was more than big enough for us both, and I got in with her, nestling her between my legs in front of me.
Deli sighed, leaning back against me.
“Better?” I asked, kissing her shoulder.
She nodded, letting her eyes drift shut again. “Don’t let me drown.”
“Hmm, it’s tempting.”
She nudged her elbow back into my ribs. “Dickhead.”
“Ah, that’s better.”
“What is?”
“You insulting me. This is the Delilah I’m used to handling.” I swept her hair around and kissed the side of her neck. “Not the dirty-mouthed, bold-in-bed one.”
“Speak for yourself.” She raised her foot out of the water and stretched out her ankle. “Mr I’ve Got A New Kink.”
I laughed, burying my face into her neck. I nuzzled my nose against the tender skin there, and despite her jokes, she leant her head against mine and reached up to stroke my hair.
“How was I supposed to know I’d like it when you order me around?” I muttered against her neck.
“I’ve been doing it for almost thirty years. I thought you’d have some inkling by now.”
“Hmm. It’s definitely more palatable when you’re naked.”
“So,” she said slowly, dragging the word out. “All I have to do is get naked and you’ll do whatever I want?”
I snorted. “I do whatever you want anyway.”
“Oh, that’s true.” She let her hand fall away, and I wrapped my arms tightly around her. She rested her hands on top of mine. “Happy wife, happy life, right? Isn’t that what Si told you?”
“Something like that. But I’ve found that my life is generally happier when you are, wife or not, so it’s more like, ‘happy Deli, happy life.’”
“But that doesn’t rhyme.”
“Happy wife, happy life it is, then. It’s the same thing.” My stomach clenched. “Unless you still plan on asking me for those papers, that is.”
A small smile twitched its way onto her face. “What if I told you I only said that because I knew it would make you give in to me?”
“I would pretend to be appropriately shocked at your trickery, fake a moment of anger, and make you dry your own hair.”
“Ouch,” she replied. “Mean.”
“The worst,” I agreed. “Sit up. Let me wash your hair.”
She did as she was told, and I used the shower head by the taps to rinse her hair once the water was the right temperature. Deli didn’t move, merely sat there, occasionally letting out a contented hum as I massaged two rounds of shampoo then one of conditioner into her hair.
