Grace stiffened, the command pinning her in place. She turned slowly, the silk of her robe clung against her skin. Tate didn’t move, but he gestured with a slight flick of his fingers, beckoning her into his space.
She stepped closer, the domestic quiet of the kitchen suddenly charged with tension.
"I need you to check my back," he said, his voice a low vibration that seemed to bypass her ears and hum straight in her chest.
Grace’s eyes widened, her heart skipping a beat. The request felt far too intimate for the cold distance they had maintained since the ceremony. He caught the hesitation in her expression, a ghost of a challenge appearing in his dark eyes.
"Or can you not even manage that much for your husband?"
Grace swallowed hard, the word *husband* sounding strange coming from
