In the morning I wake to Scott singing in the shower. The rush of water splashes around the basement notes of his voice, and I burrow beneath the covers, enjoying the moment. My dozing mind dips into a daydream where he’s naked and wet and warm as he slips between the sheets to lie down beside me…
This is only a business trip, I tell myself.
The shower cuts off, the slap of water on tile dissipating, and his song dries up along with the flow from the spigot. I wait, curled into my bed, the sheets pulled up over my head so I can peer out without him knowing I’m awake. My pulse has begun to quicken, my blood warming at the thought of Scott on the other side of the wall behind me, toweling dry…
Okay, I’m up now. In more ways than one.
It seems an eternity passes before the bathroom do
