Chapter 174

Melanie

I'm wholly unprepared for the person who emerges from the bathroom, steam billowing out in tendrils that cling to his already glistening skin. He obviously missed a few spots when he dried off. Weston isn't wearing a shirt, and he's got a pair of low-slung gray sweatpants that precariously hover on his hips, showcasing the chiseled lines carved by years of hard labor. My heart skips a beat, my tongue is suddenly sticky against the roof of my mouth as my eyes feast on the man before me. This is not the boy I left behind. No, the boy I left has transformed into a man molded by time and experience, and holy hell, he is breathtaking.

Guilt prickles at my conscience for objectifying him like this, but damn it all, this is my husband, although the right to call him that might have slipped through my fingers. He glances over at me, an amused, knowing grin playing at the edges of his full lips. He knows exactly what he's doing, and the fucker enjoys it.