By the time it ended, Sydney was drenched, as if she had just been pulled from the water. Sweat clung to her skin as she lay face down on the pillow, too exhausted to move.
Julian took out a wet wipe and carefully cleaned her. "Do you want to wash up?"
"No." Sydney refused at once.
Lately, every time they finished, Julian carried her into the bathroom and patiently helped her bathe. Tonight, she was not going. This unreliable man had a terrible habit of turning a bath into something else entirely.
Right now, she only wanted to sleep.
Her eyes were naturally soft. With tears still clinging to the corners, she looked especially disarming.
Julian swallowed and forced down the heat rising in him. He carried Sydney to the sofa, changed the rumpled bedding, then lifted her back into bed.
"Go to sleep," he said, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "I'm going to shower."
Sydney's eyelids felt too heavy to lift. She answered vaguely, "Mm. Go."
…
The next day, Sydney, who usually woke on her own, slept until the second alarm before dragging herself out of bed.
Julian had kept an eye on the time the night before because she had work today, but that did not mean he had been gentle enough to spare her.
She was exhausted. She had just changed and was about to head downstairs when the bedroom door opened.
Julian stepped in wearing a black suit, looking fresh, composed, and entirely too pleased with himself. "Did you sleep well?"
Sydney knew he was doing it on purpose. She shot him a glare. "Yes and no."
She stressed the last part.
One brow lifted. He took the cashmere coat draped over her arm, then walked downstairs with her.


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