I’ve officially run a perfect bath.
Call me Poseidon—God of water.
Wait. I also gave her a robe. Does that make me Robbie, God of Robes?
I twist the tap shut, and the rush of water fades into a slow steady drip. Steam curls thick around my arms, clinging to my skin. The whole room smells like clean linen and heat. I grab a stack of towels from the shelf and shake one out, folding it neatly on the counter even though my hands aren’t built for neat. My fingers twitch—too big, too restless, but at least they’re doing something other than reaching for her.
When I step back into the room, she’s still perched on the edge of the bed. Robe clutched tight. Knees pressed together. She looks small—swallowed by shadows and silence—as if she doesn’t know how to exist in this space yet.
I clear my throat. “Bath’s ready.” My voice comes out softer this time, steadier.
Her head lifts, wide eyes meeting mine.
Down, boy.
Just, shut the fuck up for a minute.
I gesture toward the bathroom, and she rises slowly, bare feet whispering against the rug. The November chill seeps throughthe windows, threading cold into the room. Even up here, the city lights can’t chase away the bite of the season.
I hold out a towel. “This is for after. I’ll leave it right here.” I set it on the counter beside the tub.
Her hand brushes mine as she reaches past to set the robe down. The contact is brief—accidental—but it hits like a live wire, a spark that travels all the way up my arm. I lock my fists at my sides before they get any bright ideas.
Don’t say anything weird about baptisms…
Don’t say it.
Don’t—
I step back, clearing my throat. “Take your time, Dove. I’ll be downstairs.”
She blinks up at me, curls clinging damply to her cheeks from the steam drifting out of the bathroom. “You…you’ll stay?”
“Always,” I say without thinking. The word is out before I can stop it. My brain scrambles to recover the emotional damage.
“Going to grab a coffee. You want anything?”
“S-stay. Please.”
Well, this is open for interpretation, isn’t it?
Stay where exactly, sweetheart? In the room? In the tub?
Does the lady require assistance with the bathing process?
“I can wait outside, if you prefer?”
She nods quickly—too quickly—and her cheeks flush pink. Which means mine do too, because apparently, I’m a man who now blushes.
What the fuck,Trey.
Something in her eases after that, though. Her shoulders lower, a soft sigh escapes her lips, and she nods once.
The door clicks softly behind her.
I stand there for a second, staring at the fog curling out from the gap at the bottom, trying to remember how to breathe like a normal person. My chest is tight, my pulse still racing from the kiss I swore would be simple but nearly undid me.
I force myself to breathe. In. Out. Count it. But then, faint through the wood, I hear a sound that knocks the air straight out of me.
