I bring her into the spacious room, bypassing the king-size bed. The ample ensuite bathroom and walk-in closet were designed for two people. When I built this house, it was with her in mind—her and me.
The first woman I brought here. The last altogether.
“Take me to bed,” she murmurs, but I need to bathe her first.
Experience has shown she gets sleepy after sex, and tonight was even more intense than the first time.
I place her down next to my oversized bathtub and turn on the water. Rummaging through the cabinet, I pick out a scented bubble bath and pour a generous amount in.
As the tub fills, she gets in, the bubbles covering most of her body.
I slip behind her, and she leans her head back, eyeing me intently. “I could live here.”
“Good, because the alternative is kidnapping.” I am not even joking.
She giggles, but the sound is laced with sorrow. “Our worlds are so near yet impassable. If that isn’t sad, I don’t know what is.”
Her words might as well be a rusty knife stabbing my chest repeatedly—not knowing what will kill me first, the punctured heart or the sepsis.
I wrap my arms tightly around her as if wanting to ingrain her into my soul, so not even an eternity later, I could forget her shape.
Inhaling her sweet scent, I kiss the top of her head.
I made my decision.
Sorry, baby girl.
17
DAHLIA
My head lies on his chest, and his hand travels up and down the valley of my breasts absentmindedly, reminding me I am not dreaming. I doubt I could have conjured such a peaceful moment. While my body soaks in the warm water, my heart swims in an overwhelming feeling of love—so much delight and endless serenity.
I don’t want us to end, even though it must. Being thrust back into numbness feels impossible right now.
I could never regret us, but I won’t survive his loss.
He has touched my life, heart, and body in indelible ways.
I sigh—the sound heavy with despondency, threatening to burst the ethereal bubble.
“Was I too hard on you?” he asks, sounding concerned.
For the entire world, he might be a cruel, heartless monster. For me, he’ll always be the boy who has protected me. The man who saved me.
My body is deliciously sore, and I prefer it that way, hoping to preserve the feeling so I will never forget how he made me feel. He awakened in me a sexual, confident woman. But the reality of him could never have prepared me, even if I had experience.He oozes intensity, demands submission. And I love to take him, feel him stretch me, rearrange everything in me. He brings me so high, I could stretch out my hand and snatch a star from the sky.
“I loved every second,” I murmur.
I tilt my head to him, catching a smirk tugging at his mouth while those silver eyes burn with unrestrained hunger. But there’s always something else present—like a compass pointing straight at me. Softness.
I know he would kill for me. Has killed for me. But he might kill me with passion. He ignites a fire in me that ravages my insides.
His brows furrow as his eyes bore into me, wanting to uncover my depths. “Then what is it?”
I could never hide from him. Our hearts share a connection that transcends the physical. That word comes to my mind again: destiny. Then, if mine is intertwined with his, why be so cruel to keep us apart? What do we have besides stolen moments and secrets we guard?
I shrug. “Nothing you could help with.”
