Zane dried Rory with just as much care and attention as when washing him.
Zane held the now damp shirt. “Sorry it wasn’t clean, but it’s softer than the towels.”
Rory had his answer. He swallowed a lump in his throat at the depths of Zane’s caring. “Thank you.” He reached up and stroked Zane’s shirt. “You’re right, it feels real soft. Smells of you, too.”
Zane made a face. “Don’t smell good.”
Rory took the shirt from Zane, put it to his face, and took an exaggerated sniff. He sighed dramatically. “If I could bottle that I’d be a millionaire. Women, and some men would buy it and…”
Zane shook his head. “Knock it off.” He took the shirt from Rory and let it fall back to the carpet.
Rory grasped Zane’s hand. “Now it’s my turn to see all of you.”
Zane ducked his head. “Kinda was hoping you’d forgotten about that.”