I step into the bathroom, the scent of lavender and eucalyptus greeting me like an old friend. The tub is already filling, steam rising and curling in the air. I undress slowly, letting each piece of clothing fall to the floor, a ritualistic shedding of the day's worries. The water feels perfect as I sink in, enveloping me in warmth. But something is missing.
I close my eyes, trying to recreate the sensation from before, the one that lingered on my skin for hours. I try to remember the way Mason's hands felt, the way his presence seemed to infuse the water with something more than just heat. I sigh, frustrated. It's not the same. It doesn't feel as good.
An idea, half-formed and ridiculous, tickles the edge of my mind. I push it away at first, but it keeps coming back, insistent. I reach
