Bemuse

He left his hand where it was, bemused by her discomfort. "You know, you really shouldn't feel so self-conscious about this sort of thing anymore."

She squirmed. "Oh yeah? Who died and made you judge?"

He shrugged. "I'm just saying."

"And I'm just saying..." She shoved him away. "Later!" She laughed and pulled the comforter off the bed. Wrapping it around herself, she sashayed to the bathroom, swaying her hips with exaggerated seductiveness. "There is a time and place for everything."

"And what's wrong with morning in bed?" he called out.

But she shut the door behind her. He heard the shower turn on, and after a few minutes of waiting for her to end the joke, saw steam filter out from under the doorway. He sighed and leaned back in bed.

"Hey!" she said. He looked up. She had poked her head out the doorway, and he could see the comforter at her feet. "What's wrong with morning in the shower?" she asked.

He jumped up and followed her in.