She obeyed, teeth catching the bread roughly, crumbs tumbling onto her lap.
I tutted under my breath, brushing them away. Her hands twitched like she wanted to slap mine away, but she didn't.
"Easy," I said quietly. "I've got you."
The words landed wrong. Too tender. Too much.
But I didn't take them back.
When the last bite disappeared, I stood. "Bath."
The word hung in the air between us.
Belle's eyes snapped to mine, wide and wary. Her whole body tensed like I'd just threatened her.
She thought this was a punishment. Or something worse.
I could see it in the way her fingers dug into the armrests, the way her breath quickened, the way every muscle coiled tight with dread.
I didn't explain. Just walked to the bathroom and turned on the taps.
The water rushed out, filling the silence. I tested the temperature with my hand—warm, almost too warm. The kind of heat that loosened muscles and melted tension. Steam began to curl upward, fogging the mirror, turning the room into something soft and private. A cocoon.
When I returned, Belle hadn't moved. Still braced for whatever came next.
I lifted her. Easy. Effortless. My hands under her knees and back, cradling her weight like it was nothing.
Her breath caught—sharp and small—and I felt the way her body went rigid against mine.
From the heat, maybe.
From exhaustion.
From me.
I lowered her into the tub carefully. The water rose around her, steam wrapping us both. She hissed softly as the warmth hit her skin, eyes fluttering closed for just a moment before snapping open again. Watching me. Waiting.
I reached for the washcloth. Dipped it in the water. Wrung it out.
Then I touched her arm. Not rough. Not sexual. Gentle.
The cloth glided over her skin—slow, deliberate strokes that followed the line of her forearm to her wrist. I watched the water cascade down, washing away tension I hadn't realized she was carrying.
Her other arm. Same careful attention. Her shoulders. Her collarbones. Down to her stomach, where her muscles twitched under my touch.
She didn't speak. Didn't pull away. Just sat there, eyes half-closed, breathing shallow.
I moved lower. Her legs. One at a time.
The washcloth traced the curve of her calf, behind her knee, along her thigh. Still gentle. Still reverent. Then… I reached between her legs.
Belle's entire body went rigid. Her eyes flew open, locking on mine with something between terror and confusion.
But I didn't grope.
Didn't take.
Just washed.
