“Aack, I wasn’t done yet! Sit up, sit /up/.” She frowned at his hand holding her wrist, then looked up at him. “What? Nothing! Except the part where you went under the water before I was finished washing you!” She bopped his shoulder again.
Rolling his eyes fondly at her demand, he sat up and stretched once more, casting her a pointed glance and gesturing wordlessly to his torso. “I’m sorry? You just … make me melt when you touch me?” He winced sheepishly at his own phrasing, before kissing her on the nose.
Summer huffed and scolded, “Stop that! I’m going to wash you and then we’re going to get out because my toes are wrinkly!” She lifted a foot out of the water to show him, before chasing down the bottle of soap again. “Now be good or I’ll have to tie you up.”