Pulling me closer.
Tucking my head beneath his chin as he shielded me with his coat, his body acting as a barrier against the rain.
Water streamed down his hair, along his jaw, dripping steadily as he turned and began to walk.
Down the ridge.
Away from the scene.
His pace was steady, unhurried, as if nothing in the world could rush him.
Inside the villa, he didn’t stop.
Marble floors echoed beneath his steps as he carried me through the corridors.
The contrast between the storm outside and the cold, polished interior was jarring.
My wet clothes left faint marks against his coat as water dripped from us, leaving a trail behind.
Then—
Up the main staircase.
Through a set of doors.
Into his bedroom.
I barely had time to register the space before he moved again.
Into the bathroom.
And everything changed.
The bathroom was unlike anything I’d ever seen.
Black marble stretched across the floors and walls, polished to a reflective sheen.
The air was warm—heated floors sending gentle waves of heat up through my soaked clothes.
A massive rainfall shower stood in the corner, large enough to fit several people inside, its glass walls gleaming under soft lighting.
Everything smelled like him.
He set me on my feet—careful, almost gentle, like I might shatter under his touch.
The moment my soles met the heated marble, my knees betrayed me again.
They buckled.
A sharp gasp tore from my throat as my body folded, but before I could hit the ground, his hands were there—firm, gripping my waist and pulling me back upright with controlled strength.
He didn’t let go.
“Easy,” he murmured, his voice lower now, less detached. “Don’t try to carry your weight yet.”
I clung to him without meaning to—fingers curling weakly against the front of his coat as my legs trembled violently beneath me.
Every nerve in my knees screamed, the raw, torn skin protesting even the slightest movement.
