“Here,” she said, handing him the cool, damp towel. Kicking off her shoes, she reached for the light switch. “Let me get a look at you.” Steven turned his dark eyes up to her, lost and grateful. “Poor baby,” she said tenderly. “You look like you just lost a fight.” Steven touched the terrycloth to his lip gingerly, slowly pressing it closer. He smiled, vaguely.
Lord Malinov, Flowers of Malinov