Michael didn’t know what to do with his hands. Some small, decent shred of himself insisted that he should stop this, before it got out of control. He tried to remind himself that if he made love to Hannah now, it would be like making love to a woman who was out-of-her mind drunk. But who was he kidding? Michael wasn’t exactly known for his self-less nature. He groaned and looked around for something to grip. He had to keep his hands off from her. If he grabbed the shower head, he’d likely pull the flimsy fixture right out of the wall. The shower curtain rod didn’t look any sturdier. He laced his fingers behind his neck, ignoring the burning in his shoulder as the muscles flexed, and closed his eyes.
The similarity of this moment to another one was not lost on him. He remember
