"Hmm… interesting," He crooned, nodding as he crossed his arms, and his eyes closed into mere slits, "and very lovely."
Interesting? Lovely? Did he have to sound that disinterested? The expression on my face died down as I rolled my eyes in my head and continued rinsing my shoulder.
"It's fine if you don't want to, husband. But this will take a while."
"Not that I don't want to," he said, and I gazed back up at him. What did he mean, then? Sam only raised his hand to show me the dried blood and dirt left in between his fingers and palms.
He smacked his lips, and said, "I know you don't mind, but I do." He put his hand down on the rim, bending down as the other hovered in front of me. "Hand."
Hand? I furrowed my brows as I darted my eyes from his eyes to his wriggling fingers in front of me. Did he want to hold my hand? I wondered but still reached my hand to him.
