Jeffrey's warm breath caressed Joanne's bare neck warming her.
"You should sit down," he murmured. "You were on your feet all day. In heels."
She didn't reply. She only looked at him through the mirror, her eyes soft, her expression unreadable.
He began unfastening the row of delicate buttons trailing down her back. One by one. Slowly. As if every loop undone was a step closer to something sacred.
"You were so beautiful today, Mrs. Joanne Winchester… And you've become mine."
His lips followed—warm, open kisses down the nape of her neck and over her spine, slow and deliberate. Heat curled at the base of her stomach. She swayed slightly, and his hand came around her waist, steadying her.
"There's no rush," he whispered against her skin. "You're tired. You should sleep. Just let me help you get out of this, and I'll run you a bath. We can rest. Talk. We have time now. The rest of our lives."
