The room fills slowly with steam, softening the harsh edges of tile and mirror, muting the world down to water and breath and the space between us.
After a moment, her voice comes quietly. “Are you… Are you getting in, too?” A simple sentence that carries more weight than anything else she’s said tonight, as if she’s bracing for the answer.
Turning the tap off, I face her where she’s seated on the edge of the tub. At first, she keeps her eyes on the tiled floor, then her gaze bounces to the water. “Eyes on me, Noah,” I encourage, my tone pitched exactly where it needs to be so it doesn’t startle her. Following my gentle command, she traces my face with a doe-like expression.Good girl.“It’s your call, Starlet. Say jump, and I’ll ask how high.”
Whiskey eyes search my face with the same careful intensity she’s been using all night, weighing every word, every breath, deciding whether she can afford to trust what she sees there. I don’t fill the silence. I let it stretch, let her take the time she needs. “Yes.” Her reply settles into my skin, and I release a breath as she whispers, “Need your arms around me.”
My dick is more affected by that statement than he should be, and I have to remind himto calm the fuck down because it’s the furthest thing from what she needs.
I step back just far enough for her to see me move, to track me, and strip down to my underwear without ceremony, every motion deliberate and unhurried, making sure nothing about this feels sudden or uncontrolled. Climbing into the tub before her, the water laps gently against porcelain as I lower myself in. “I’m a patient man, Noah. Take all the time you need.”
Hesitation stretches across her shoulders, but she draws in a breath. After a beat, she dips her chin to her chest, then drops her robe to the floor. My breath hitches in my throat, stunned to silence at the sight of her standing bare before me. Noah Lane is breathtaking. And although it is so inappropriate to be eye fucking her at a time like this, I can’t help the way my heart thunders against my rib cage. There will never be a day this woman doesn’t affect me. Hell, she’s owned every part of my attention since she was fifteen years old.Thank fuck I left my boxers in place.
Distracted by seeing her naked for the first time in years, it takes me a second to fully register how bad the marksreallyare. Scattered shades of red litter her torso, hips, and thighs. The newer ones are not bruises, not yet, but in the morning, they’ll show their true colors. My stomach drops, somersaulting into a wave of nausea Ihave to fight to keep down. Once again, the anger bubbles to the surface, and it takes every ounce of my control to keep it at bay. For her.
I swallow the growing lump in my throat, extend my hand toward Noah, and she places hers in mine. Once she’s stepped into the tub, she stiffly lowers herself. A hiss draws from her chest as the water soothes her injuries. Finally, she leans back into me, not all at once, just enough for her shoulders to rest against my chest, a choice she makes slowly, consciously, like she’s testing whether I’ll hold steady once she lets go.
Thankfully, I do.
The water settles around us, warmth pressing in from every side. I don’t tighten my hold or pull her closer. I let my breathing set the rhythm, something she can borrow if she needs it. Her breath is shallow at first, controlled like she’s afraid of what might happen if she lets it loose, and I feel every small hitch of it against my ribs, every careful adjustment of her body as she decides whether this—me—is safe enough to sink into.
The restraint it takes not to gather her up burns like a live wire under my skin. Then she leans back, and I finally feel like I can breathe again. Noah shifts slightly, a careful movement, and my body reacts before my mind does, muscles tightening instinctively. I’m ready to catch her, but she doesn’t falter—just settles in as her head tips a fraction, hair brushing my collarbone.
“This okay?” My mouth is close to her ear but not touching, voice kept low so it doesn’t fracture the quiet we’re building.
She nods but doesn’t say anything.
My chin tilts forward until it rests lightly against her shoulder, a point of contact she can feel without being overwhelmed by it. She doesn’t pull away. If anything, she leans back a little more, trusting my stability in a way that fractures something quiet and permanent in my chest. Wrapping my arms around her, I exhale.
We don’t exchange words, letting time stretch until it feels less like an enemy and more like something we can survive if we take it one slow minute at a time.
I make sure she sees my next movements before doing anything drastic. With the handheld showerhead, I rinse off her hair and reach for the shampoo. She doesn’t flinch, and I take that as a green light to continue. Without saying a word, she sits forward, granting me access and permission. I squeeze a small amount into my palms, and my fingers sink gently into her hair. I’ve done this with her dozens of times before, but somehow, this moment feels fragile. Careful not to pull or rush, I massage the liquid through in unhurried circles.
She hums as I tease her scalp, a soft sound that settles deep in my chest. “Thanks for taking care of me.”
“Anytime.” I gulp back my emotions and wordlessly guide the water through her tresses until it runs clear.
“I need you to washthemoff me. All of them.”
How I don’t physically react to those words is beyond comprehension. Especially when my heart shatters into a billion fragmented pieces.Them?What the fuck does that mean? Was Bradley not alone?
Visions of the hell I found her in come rushing back to the forefront of my mind. The destruction was exponential. Several bottles of liquor. Glasses on the coffee table. Condoms strewn all over the floor and bed. I blocked it out, refusing to think of the atrocity I witnessed. But now that she’s confirmed my suspicions, I fight the urge to burn this fucking city to the ground. Murder coats my vision in a red haze. I will come for Bradley, and whoever the hell else was involved. When I do, they’ll wish they never laid a hand on my Starlet. I’ll gut every one of them until they’re soaked in their own blood.
My jaw clenches as I fight for the control she needs.Pack it away, Rhett. Their time will come, and when it does, you’ll be ready.
I want to question her, draw every detail from her mind so I can lead the lambs to slaughter. I want to beg her to tell me everything so I know exactly how to put her back together. But I don’t. Not now. Revenge is a dish best served cold, and when their time comes, I’m prepared to make them choke on it.
Setting my fury aside, I focus on her because sheneeds me present right now. So, I do exactly as she’s requested—cleanse them from her flesh. My hand reaches for the bottle of hotel-provided bodywash, and I squirt some into my palm and massage into her tense muscles. “Tell me if this is too much.”
“You’re the only thing keeping me from spiraling,” she whispers. “Please.”
“I’m yours, Noah. Anything and everything you need.” Brushing her hair away from the nape of her neck, she leans into my touch like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
Being cared for and held without being asked for anything in return is something her body remembers, and that eases the ache in my chest. At this moment, I vow to do whatever it takes to make sure she never feels broken again.
Tonight is about her. When the time is right, I’ll figure out the rest—starting with how to dispose of Bradley. I’m not my brother. Kade is a gambler. Too erratic and spontaneous, acting before thinking things through. I’m more strategic. A puppeteer. I’ll lay the trap, set the stage, and pull the strings. By the time the final curtain falls, they won’t be alive to witness my applause.
NOAH
