Careful.
Slow.
The cloth moved over her pelvis with the same deliberate gentleness I'd used everywhere else. Clinical, almost. Except for the way my jaw tightened. The way my breathing went deeper.
She squeezed her eyes shut.
A tremor ran through her—not fear, not arousal.
Humiliation.
I could feel it radiating off her in waves.
But beneath it… something else.
Something that made her throat work and her breathing hitch and her fingers curl against the porcelain. Comfort. Strange. Unsettling. Unwanted.
I'd never touched anything like it was breakable. Not my stick. Not my opponents. Not the women who'd shared my bed before Belle. Everything in my life was meant to be dominated, controlled, bent to my will.
But this… This felt different.
My hands moved with a precision I usually reserved for the ice. Every stroke of the cloth deliberate. Measured. Like she was something precious I couldn't afford to damage.
When I was done, I set the washcloth aside. Reached for a towel. Held it open. "Up."
Belle opened her eyes. Stared at me like she didn't recognize what she was seeing.
Then she stood.
Water sluiced down her body as I wrapped the towel around her, tucking it carefully at her chest.
She swayed.
I caught her. Steadied her. And for just a moment—one brief, dangerous moment—I let myself hold her. Like she mattered. Like she was more than the contract. More than revenge. More than mine.
Fuck.
I released her. Stepped back.
"Bed," I said quietly.
The water cooled too fast.
I felt it under my fingertips when I reached in—still warm, but losing its edge. Belle sat motionless, eyes closed. Her breathing had evened out. Almost peaceful.
Almost.
I pulled the plug. The drain gurgled as water spiraled away, leaving her skin glistening in the dim light.
"Come on."
I lifted her up from where she was positioned, towel still wrapped around her. Easy. Automatic. My hands slid under her arms, steadying her weight as I set her feet on the bath mat.
Her knees buckled again. I caught her before she hit the floor—one arm around her waist, pulling her upright, holding her steady against my chest.
"Easy," I murmured.
She didn't respond. Just sagged against me, forehead pressed to my shoulder, trembling from exhaustion or cold or something else entirely.
