Pregnancy had not softened Francesca’s figure.

Her back remained slender and porcelain-white, her black hair spilling over her shoulders as the hot water streamed down her scapulae, pooling delicately into the small hollow of her lower back. There, a faint birthmark, dusky in color, caught the eye like an almost accidental stroke of artistry.

“I’ll help you wash,” Julian murmured.

He reached out, hands steady as they encircled her waist. But ...