Sarah Wilson

Despite Sam's best efforts, Sarah and Bucky had been in a serious and committed relationship for six months. It didn't usually feel that way, and somehow it felt like forever. Unlike many men she knew, he was as content to curl up together on the couch and watch old movies or hold hands over a quiet dinner than a party or have constant sex.

Oh, there was sex, no lack of it, but they also had plenty of time for quieter activities. He taught her steps from dances in his youth, and she got him up to speed on some of the more modern, her era anyway, club moves. It was during a close slow dance that she'd picked on him about having some stubble and threatened to shave it in his sleep, he could not have shocked her more than when he asked why wait for him to be asleep?

Sarah had helped her dad and grandad tie their ties and had learned how to give a decent shave years ago. But she'd had no reason to even practice since her husband had passed. James was unafraid and encouraging to her, so she decided what the hell?

Looking at him sitting there, shirtless, damp hair mussed and that tiny smile toying up the corners of her mouth almost made her handshake. She'd never thought of the concept of shaving as particularly erotic before, but when he looked at her like that, it was about all she could think about.

Sarah licked her lips and gathered up the razor and damp, hot cloth. The former sat near an antique basin that had been in the family from times when this really was how men shaved. "Still sure about this?"