After Rebirth, I Became My Ex's Aunt-in-Law

”Relax,” Aria whispered, running her wet fingers through his silver hair.

Damien took that instruction very, very literally.

Aria watched as Damien’s long, dark eyelashes fluttered rapidly as they lowered. His chin dropped, resting heavily against his bare, broad chest.

”Damien?” Aria asked, splashing a tiny bit of water at his shoulder.

”Mmmph,” Damien slurred. His head lolled slightly to the side.

Aria’s eyes widened. ”Okay, maybe not that relaxed. Damien, wake up. You can’t sleep in the tub, you’ll drown.”

She reached out and carefully extracted the three silver needles, placing them back in the velvet pouch on the table.

Damien didn’t even flinch. If anything, he melted further down the slanted back of the porcelain tub, his massive frame completely devoid of all muscular tension.

”Oh my god,” Aria panicked, grabbing his slick, wet biceps. ”Damien! Up! Let’s go!”

”Five more minutes,” Damien mumbled into his own collarbone, sounding like a petulant toddler who didn’t want to go to preschool.

”No! Up!” Aria demanded, pulling on his arms.

It was like trying to deadlift a wet refrigerator. He was a solid six-foot-three of dense, heavy muscle, and currently, he was entirely dead weight. Worse, he was coated in jasmine essential oil and hot water, making him as slippery as a greased pig.

”The big, warm bed is so much better,” Aria promised, panting as she dragged his heavy arms over her shoulders.

Damien groaned, the word ’bed’ apparently penetrating through the haze.

He sluggishly planted his feet on the bottom of the tub. Aria hooked her arms under his armpits from the front, throwing her entire body weight backward to hoist him up.

”One, two, heave!” Aria grunted, her face turning red with the physical exertion.

With a massive splash, Damien breached the surface. He stumbled over the edge of the tub, his wet feet slipping slightly on the tile. Aria caught him, wrapping her arms tightly around his waist, her cheek squished awkwardly against his wet chest.

”Walk,” Aria ordered, shuffling them sideways like a three-legged crab.

They hobbled out of the steaming bathroom and into the master bedroom. The cool air conditioning hit their wet skin, making them both shiver.

Damien’s half-lidded eyes zeroed in on the massive, four-poster bed. A loose, goofy smile spread across his face.

”Bed,” Damien slurred happily.

He didn’t walk the last two steps.

He pitched forward like a felled redwood tree, diving face-first toward the mattress.

”Wait—!” Aria shrieked.

He did not let go of her.

Damien’s arm was still locked around her middle. As he went down, he took her right down with him.

Oof.

Aria hit the mattress back-first, and a split second later, two hundred and twenty pounds of solid, wet billionaire crashed directly on top of her.

The air was violently expelled from Aria’s lungs in a loud whoosh.

She lay there, completely flattened, star-fishing under the crushing weight of her husband. Damien was sprawled out on top of her, his face buried deep in the crook of her neck, snoring softly.

”Damien,” Aria wheezed, her voice a thin, suffocating squeak. ”I am dying. You are crushing my internal organs.”

He grunted, shifting his weight.

But as he moved, a very specific, very hard piece of his anatomy pressed directly into the center of her stomach.

Aria froze.

”Damien,” Aria gasped, her face flushing crimson as she tried to wiggle her hips out from under him. ”Please get off.”

She braced her hands against his massive, wet shoulders and shoved. It did nothing. She tried bucking her hips. He just felt heavier.

”Get off!” Aria grunted.

She twisted her torso, throwing her knee up to push against his hip, wriggling like a worm on a hook. Inch by agonizing inch, she managed to slide herself out from underneath him.

With a final, desperate heave, she shoved his shoulder. Damien rolled off of her, flopping onto his back with a heavy thud. His arms splayed out wide, taking up eighty percent of the mattress.

Aria rolled away, dropping onto the floor next to the bed on her hands and knees, gasping for precious oxygen.

”I survived,” she panted, wiping her wet hair out of her face.

She pushed herself up and marched back to the bathroom to dry herself off. She quickly slipped into a pair of delicate, black lace silk pajama shorts and a matching camisole, relishing the feeling of the soft, dry fabric against her skin.

She grabbed a large, fluffy white bath towel from the heated rack and walked back into the bedroom.

Damien hadn’t moved a muscle. Beneath his sprawling body, the expensive silk duvet cover was rapidly absorbing the water from his skin, creating a massive, dark wet spot.

”You’re going to ruin the mattress,” Aria sighed, shaking her head. ”And you’re going to freeze.”

She climbed onto the edge of the bed, holding the towel to her chest. Her face instantly flushed a bright, atomic red.

He really was so damn sexy.

Aria shook her head, trying to banish the perverted thoughts invading her brain.

”Focus, Aria,” she scolded herself.

She leaned over and began to vigorously towel dry his thick silver hair. Damien just mumbled something in his sleep, turning his head slightly. She moved down, running the towel over his broad shoulders, drying the water off his chest and his defined abs. She moved to his legs, drying his muscular thighs and calves.

When she finished, the top and bottom halves of his body were perfectly dry.

But...

Aria sat back on her heels, clutching the damp towel to her chest.

She stared at it.

His erection was still standing at absolute attention, pointing straight toward the ceiling. It was glistening slightly with water from the tub, nestled against his dark hair.

Aria’s face was so hot she felt like she was going to combust.

She averted her eyes, looking at the bedside lamp.

’Just leave it,’ the logical part of her brain argued. ’It’s air-drying. It will be fine. You do not need to touch it.’

But her eyes naturally, uncontrollably flicked back down to his waist.

’He’s wet,’ Aria countered. ’The AC is on full blast in here. What if he catches a cold? Not a regular cold. A localized cold. A penile cold. Is that a thing? It could be a thing. What if he gets frostbite down there, and then it falls off, and it’s entirely my fault because I was too shy to dry it?’

She nodded slowly to herself.

’Yes. As the person who administered his medical treatment, it is my ethical duty to ensure all of his extremities are thoroughly dried to prevent hypothermia.’

Aria tossed the large, damp towel onto the floor.

She scrambled off the bed and scurried back into the bathroom, returning a second later wielding a small, soft, dry hand towel.

She crawled back onto the mattress, kneeling directly beside his hip. Her heart was hammering a mile a minute.

She felt like an absolute pervert, but also... he was her husband. There was technically nothing wrong with touching her sleeping husband’s dick for purely hygienic, completely necessary drying purposes. She wasn’t going to do anything weird.

Aria gripped the small hand towel tightly in both fists, raising it up like a knight drawing a sword before slaying a dragon. She took a deep, steadying breath, her emerald eyes locked onto her target.

”I’ll be super fast,” she muttered to herself.