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Chapter 6

Still seated on the hard lid of the toilet, Han took another drink, then set the now-empty ale bottle on the counter. He placed his hands behind his head and leaned back, stretching out his aching back and legs. His eyes were drawn back to the lovely figure in the bath, and he concluded that the view was well worth any discomfort.

Leia smiled, and his heart skipped a beat. Through the bubbles, he glimpsed hints of those curves he longed to touch. Han swallowed. He would have done just about anything for her to rise out of the water, with the thin layer of soap running down her glistening form, gradually revealing beauty that only they knew. She'd step out of the bath, and he would caress her soft skin with a warm, dry towel, then entice her to bed and...

Leia brought the cup of wine to her slightly parted lips and took a sip. "Happy anniversary, Hotshot. Too bad this tub isn't like the one in our honeymoon suite. We would have made much better use of it."

Her sultry voice nearly convinced Han to turn his fantasies into reality, right then and there.

Han blinked. "Uh, yeah," he rasped then cleared his throat.

Leia's eyes sparkled with mischief. "Pitten's got your tongue?"

Refusing to concede defeat to his wife's teasing remark, Han grinned back at her. "Pita? Nah. We left her at home. Probably tearing up the curtains right now."

"She's with Chewie, Han."

"Probably tearing up HIS curtains then."

Leia winced.

Han laughed. "There's a reason we named her Pita." He raised his eyebrows. "Pain-in-the-ass."

Leia leaned her head back and looked at the ceiling. "I know, I know," she groaned. "Chewie seems to like her though, and at least the kids still think she's named after the flatbread they like so much."

Han shrugged. "Same color."

"They're smart kids. They'll figure it out at some point."

He raised a finger and smiled. "But not yet."

Leia's lips turned up as she gazed into her cup of wine. Very little was left. She placed it on the side of the tub, then immersed her arms into the water, running her hands down her thighs. She tilted her head and looked up at Han through thick lashes. "I don't want to talk about pets or kids," she said.

"So what do ya wanna do, Princess?" Those deep brown eyes… that luxurious hair… that seductive body… Han knew what he wanted to do.

Leia reached for her cup and finished the last sip of wine, then held the cup toward him. He took it from her and placed it on the counter next to the empty bottles.

She folded her arms, and rubbed her biceps. "I'm cold."

His fantasies now muted by mild concern, Han moved forward and crouched next to his wife. You're in a bath. How can you be cold? He hoped she hadn't contracted Findris Flu. But once he dipped his hand in the water and realized that it had cooled, he grinned in relief. "Still warmer than Echo Base showers."

"That's not saying much, Han." She curled her legs to her chest and wrapped her arms around them.

With gentle fingers, Han took her small hand in his, finding her skin cool to the touch. "You're trembling," he murmured.

Shaking her head, Leia gave a small grin. "I'm not trembling."

He kissed her quivering hand. "Yes, you are. Let's warm you up, Sweetheart." He waggled his eyebrows at her, then turned away to reach a towel on the shelf behind the fresher seat.

Potential ways to warm Leia up flashed through his mind. Skin-to-skin contact—their bodies pressed together with limbs entwined—was usually his favorite strategy. But that required an element they lacked at the moment: privacy.

Idiots. Han once again silently cursed the hotel reservations department for their abrupt room change.

"Han?"

Leia's voice pulled him back to the present. Glancing in her direction, he became transfixed by the very real vision standing before him. A lopsided grin stole across his face as his eyes roamed over her body. She'd risen and stepped out of the tub. Her long, damp hair hung over her shoulders and down her back, with escaped tendrils hugging her curves like chestnut waves painted on alabaster skin. She placed a hand on her hip, on that smooth, wet skin he longed to touch.

"Han!"

Her emphatic tone caught his attention, yet all he could do was utter, "Huh," while continuing to admire her.

Leia eyed him patiently. "May I have that towel?" She motioned toward the fluffy white one in his hands.

Han had forgotten that he was even holding a towel. The fleeting thought occurred to him that he'd rather not hide her lovely body, but she was cold, and he couldn't have that. "'Course," he rumbled, then opened the towel with a flourish. "It's all yours, Sweetheart."

Leia turned so that her back faced him, and Han at once wrapped the soft cloth around her, delighting in how she leaned into his chest. He kissed her temple. "Let's go to bed," he murmured in her ear.

"I like the sound of that."