He carries me to the bedroom, his touch tender now, all the dominance melted into care. He runs a bath in the enormous tub, the water warm and scented with something soothing—lavender, maybe, or jasmine—and he undresses me slowly, carefully, before lifting me into it.
The water is heaven on my skin. I close my eyes and let my head fall back against the smooth porcelain, feeling the tension slowly drain from my body. Every muscle relaxes, and for the first time in what feels like forever, I'm not fighting anything.
Nathan kneels beside the tub, a soft washcloth in his hand, and begins to gently clean me. There's nothing demanding about it now. Just care. Just tenderness that makes my chest ache.
"You were perfect," he says quietly, his voice soft in the candlelit bathroom. "You did exactly what you needed to do."
I open my eyes and look at him. Really look at him. At the intensity in his green eyes, the gentleness in his touch, the way he's looking at me like I'm something precious. Something worth protecting.
"Why?" I whisper, my voice raw. "Why did you do all of this? Destroy my life, isolate me, build this place? Why me?"
He's quiet for a long moment, the washcloth moving over my skin in soothing circles. The water ripples gently around us.Then he leans forward, his forehead resting against mine, and I feel the tremor in his breath.
"Because you were always mine," he says simply, and there's something broken in his voice. Something vulnerable. "From the moment I first came to your house and saw you sitting at the kitchen table with paint on your fingers and sadness in your eyes. You looked up at me, and I felt it even then—this pull. This certainty."
His hand cups my face, thumb stroking my cheek with infinite gentleness.
"I watched you build an empire from grief. Watched you become this strong, brilliant woman who was so busy protecting everyone else that no one was protecting you." His voice breaks slightly. "You were mine, Eve. You just didn't know it yet."
Tears slip down my cheeks, mixing with the bathwater. I should argue. Should tell him that's not how love works, that possession isn't devotion, that this whole thing is twisted and wrong.
But as I sit in the warm water, in this beautiful villa on an isolated cliff, with this man who destroyed my life to rebuild it in his image—I realize I don't want to argue anymore.
He's right. I was always his.
I just needed him to show me how to surrender.
And I need him to satisfy the need that is pulsing between my legs yet again.
So when he carries me to bed, when I need him the most, I press my body against him.
Nathan makes a sound low in his throat.
"Do you want me?" I ask, even though I can see the answer in his eyes.
"Eve," he breathes. "You're going to kill me."
"That's the plan." I move closer, straddling his lap. His hands immediately find my hips, gripping hard.
I roll my hips against him, feeling him hard beneath me. "Now it's my turn."
I kiss him deeply, taking control in a way I've never done before. His hands slide up my back, but I catch his wrists.
"My rules," I whisper against his mouth as I take his cock in my hand and put it inside of me. "Tonight, I'm in charge."
"Move," he commands softly.
I do. Slow at first, finding the rhythm, learning what makes his grip tighten and his jaw clench. His hands guide me, strong and possessive, while his mouth finds my neck.
"You're so fucking perfect," he groans. "So beautiful like this. Taking me so well."
The praise undoes me. I move faster, chasing the pleasure building in my core. Nathan's hand slides between us, his thumb finding my clit, circling in time with my movements.
"Come for me," he orders. "Right now."
The command, the pressure, the fullness—it's too much. I shatter, biting his shoulder again to muffle my cry as pleasure crashes through me.
I slide off him, kneeling between his legs. His eyes widen.
