⋅•⋅⊰∙∘❦✾❦∘∙⊱⋅•-
I found myself still gazing at the fish on the wall, as if it had offered me a much-needed escape from the man behind me. My cheeks felt so hot that I could have easily cooked an egg against them.
My brain had short-circuited somewhere between the moment Lorenzo’s shirt hit the floor and the realization that the scars and muscle and damp skin were attached to the same man who had been covered in blood less than an hour ago.
I tried to force the gears back into motion, tried to remember why I had come in here in the first place, but all I could manage was a strangled mutter that sounded pathetic even to my own ears.
The gentle sounds of water shifting and the faint splashes heightened the tension, as if he had meticulously planned just how long it would take for my brain to falter.
I knew I needed to leave. That was the most obvious solution: simple, healthy, and sensible.
Three qualities I had somehow failed to maintain since marrying Lorenzo Castelli.
"You know what? O...on second thought," I mumbled, eyes still fixed on the fish, "You were right, I think I should head back to bed."
There was a brief silence before Lorenzo’s low, mockingly amused voice came through. "Are you?"
"Yes."
"You’re leaving?"
"That’s generally what going back to bed signifies."
I started walking, spine rigid, every step measured like I was trying to convince both of us that this was a perfectly reasonable decision and not the desperate retreat of a man whose entire nervous system had decided to betray him.
The air in the pool room was thick with steam and the faint metallic scent that still clung to him from earlier, and I hated how aware I was of it.
I hated that my pulse was still hammering in my throat. I hated that I could feel his eyes on my back even without looking.
The soft splash of water shifting reached me a second later, followed by the low, lazy sound of his voice carrying across the quiet space.
I refused to turn around, I definitely wouldn’t...some sights are better left unseen, and a shirtless hot husband was one of them.
Yes, I said what I said...fucking sue me.
"You’ve also gotten very red, Alex. Are you doing okay?" he asked innocently.
I kept walking, look at him acting all clueless when he knew damn well what he was doing.
"And quiet too. That’s new."
I clenched my jaw and kept going.
"Acting like you’ve never seen your own husband without a shirt before. Should I be concerned?" Lorenzo spoke.
That did it. I spun around so fast the room tilted for a second, heat flooding my cheeks all over again.
Lorenzo was already in the water, arms spread along the edge of the pool, light hair damp and curling slightly at the ends.
He was down to his briefs, the fabric clinging in ways that made my brain short-circuit for the second time in as many minutes.
Water beaded along the sharp line of his collarbone and slid down the plane of his chest, catching on the raised edge of a scar I had somehow never allowed myself to study this closely.
His expression was pure amused wickedness, the kind of look that said he knew exactly what he was doing and planned to enjoy every second of my misery.
"My reaction is completely normal, Dracula!" I snapped, voice pitching higher than I wanted. "You’re the one who should have more shame than to just strip in front of people like...like it’s nothing."
He tilted his head, that slow teasing grin spreading across his face. "But we’re married, aren’t we? Why should I feel ashamed?"
The way he said it, calm and low and so damn certain, made something in my chest twist.
I opened my mouth, closed it, then opened it again, words tumbling out in a defensive rush that only made me sound more flustered.
"That doesn’t mean you get to— Y...you can’t just— People have boundaries, Lorenzo. Even married people. Especially married people who’ve spent most of their time so far trying not to bleed on each other."
He hummed, the sound rich and warm in the humid air, and settled deeper into the water like he had all the time in the world. "You’re getting louder."
I glanced for just a second, then another, realizing I was staring at his muscles.
I quickly redirected my gaze to his face. "Besides, a little heads-up would have been nice."
"About what?"
"About..." I waved my hand vaguely. "The whole situation."
His eyebrow arched. "The pool?"
"The undressing."
He looked almost genuinely perplexed. "I’m merely taking a bath."
"With an audience!"
"We’re alone."
"Exactly!" I yelled.
Lorenzo laughed, and I couldn’t help but appreciate that sound. "Ah, do you are shy."
"I am not."
"You are. It’s cute."
I crossed my arms, deciding to ignore those words of his despite how red I was. "Anyway, like I said before...I’m leaving."
I made a noise of pure offended disbelief and turned on my heel again, determined this time to actually leave before I said something even more humiliating.
The door was right there. Bed was right there.
Safety was right there. All I had to do was put one foot in front of the other and not look back at the way the low light caught on the wet planes of his shoulders or the way his scent seemed stronger in the steam, heavier, more present.
I made it three steps.
"That’s too bad." Lorenzo drawled.
I paused, not turning around. "What?"
"If you joined me for a relaxing bath, I’d be more than happy to answer all your questions in detail this time."
My hand remained on the door handle while my brain started to shout. All my questions surfaced.
How long had he been observing? What did the captive reveal? What secrets did Lorenzo hold?
My pride warred with my curiosity and my self-preservation instincts in a messy three-way fight that left me standing there like an idiot, staring at the door while the water lapped softly behind me.
Slowly, I glanced back. Lorenzo watched me, a hint of smugness in his expression. He knew exactly what he had done to draw me in.
"You planned this," I accused.
"No."
"You absolutely did." I narrowed my eyes. "You are so manipulative."
"Occasionally." He said with a smirk, "Are you coming in? Or are you just too scared to do so?"
"I’m not scared of you," I said, the words sharp and defensive even as my fingers trembled on the fabric of my shirt. "Don’t flatter yourself. It’s just a bath."
"Then come in," Lorenzo began. "I promise not to do anything to you...that is unless you beg for it, love."
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