He offers another piece of grilled cheese, holding it patiently near my lips like he already knows I’m going to accept it. “I won’t ever let this happen again,” he says quietly. “I’ll make sure you eat and drink enough, and I don’t care if that’s annoying to you. This isn’t good for you.”
Something about the certainty in his voice makes it hard for me to breathe. The words are simple, almost casual, but they settle somewhere deep inside me in a way I don’t expect them to.
I take the bite and chew slowly, realizing suddenly that I’m actually starving. By the time I swallow, some of the dizzy fog in my head has started to lift.
After I’ve eaten about half the sandwich, Sebastian twists the cap off the bottle of root beer and holds it out to me.
The cold glass presses against my lips, condensation sliding down onto my fingers as I take a long drink.
The taste hits me instantly.
Sweet.
Sharp.
So achingly familiar that for a moment it feels like I’m ten years old again, sitting at the kitchen table back home.
When he pulls the bottle away, I instinctively push myself upward for another sip.
The movement sends the bathwater sloshing softly around me.
Sebastian groans, a sound that is now familiar to me. I know exactly what it means. The sound freezes me mid-motion. Then I realize what caused it.
The bubbles that had been covering my chest have slipped away.
My breasts are completely visible above the water. A startled gasp escapes me as I quickly duck back down, turning my face away from him while I try to hide beneath the foam again.
Sebastian sets the food and drink aside before reaching for me.
His hands slide gently along my jaw, cupping my face and guiding it back toward him before I can keep hiding. “You are perfect,” he says softly. “There is absolutely no reason for you to hide any part of yourself from me.”
The words settle around me as I open my eyes slowly.
The fog in my head has lifted enough now that I can think clearly again, but instead of embarrassment or panic, something else begins to bloom quietly inside my chest.
Relief.
For so long my life has been about hiding pieces of myself just to survive. But sitting here now, with Sebastian kneeling beside the tub and looking at me like this…I feel like I’m something precious to him.
For the first time in longer than I can remember, I feel safe. My gaze lingers on his face longer than I intend, and Sebastian’sthumb brushes slowly across my lower lip. The reverent touch sends a small shiver down my spine.
“If you keep looking at me that way, baby,” he murmurs, his voice rougher now, deeper in a way that makes my heart stumble in my chest, “I’m not going to be able to be the gentleman you deserve right now.”
He stands abruptly before I can respond. I blink in surprise as he steps behind the bathtub. “What are you doing?” I ask, twisting slightly so I can see him, no longer worried about being exposed to him. I like the way he’s looking at me, I want more of it. If I’m honest, I want more of him.
My question fades when his fingers slide into my wet hair and I realize what he’s doing. My eyes close automatically, and I lean into his touch. Sebastian works the shampoo slowly through my hair, his strong fingers massaging gently against my scalp in slow, patient circles that immediately make my shoulders relax.
The sensation is so unexpectedly soothing that my entire body sinks deeper into the warm water. My head tips back slightly as he continues, his hands moving with careful attention that makes it feel like he has all the time in the world to spend worshiping me like this.
A quiet sound escapes me before I can stop it. “That feels amazing,” I murmur.
He doesn’t respond. He simply keeps going, rinsing the soap away before adding conditioner and repeating the process, his fingers moving through my hair with slow, deliberate strokes that send warm tingles down the back of my neck.
By the time he finishes, I feel lighter somehow.
Like the exhaustion that’s been pressing down on me all day has finally started to loosen its grip.
Sebastian moves back around to the side of the tub. He picks up the bottle of root beer again and holds it out to me. “Another drink,” he says quietly.
