He stepped closer, resting his forehead against mine. “After,” he added softly, “I’ll rub out whatever knots you let me. Nothing you don’t want, though. You set the pace.”
I nodded, unable to trust my voice.
He kissed my forehead, then my temple. He reached up to massage my shoulder and clicked his tongue. “Get in the tub, baby. I can feel how tense you are. Let me know when I can come back in.”
He moved to leave, and I stopped him, gripping his wrist preventing him from leaving. “Stay,” I said, firm and clear with what I was asking. “Stay with me.”
He didn’t hesitate.
Noah turned his hand in mine instead of pulling away, his grip firm and warm like he’d been waiting for permission he didn’t want to assume. His eyes searched my face, serious and soft all at once, and when he nodded, it felt like a promise instead of agreement.
“Okay,” he said quietly. “I’m here.”
He guided me back into the bathroom, closing the doorbehind us with his foot. The room felt cocooned now—steam curling up the walls, the fan humming, the faint scent of lavender and something citrusy wafting through the room that made my shoulders drop without my consent. Noah stood in front of me for a second, hands hovering at my waist like he was reminding himself to go slow.
“Tell me if I do anything you don’t like,” he said. “Or if you want me to stop.”
“I will,” I whispered.
He started with my hoodie, fingers warm as he tugged it up and over my head, pausing when it caught briefly on my glasses. He took them off carefully and set them on the counter, like they were something precious instead of something I forgot everywhere. His gaze never left my face, like he was checking in with me every step.
When he slid my shirt down my arms, his touch was reverent. Not rushed. Not hungry. Just… present. His palms skimmed my skin lightly, like he was mapping where I carried tension, where I held myself tight. When his hands brushed over my shoulders, he frowned.
“Jesus,” he murmured. “No wonder you’re exhausted.”
I laughed softly, the sound shaky. “You should see my hands.”
“I have,” he said. “That’s why you’re not lifting a finger tonight.”
He helped me step out of my leggings next, eyes warm and appreciative without making me feel exposed. When I stood there in front of him, bare and flushed from the steam, his breath caught a little. I had never felt this powerful in my life, with Noah staring at me like that.
“You’re beautiful,” he said.
The words settled into me.
He turned toward the tub, testing the water with his hand, then held one out for me. I took it and stepped in slowly, then sank down into the warmth with a sigh I didn’t bother to hide. The bubbles wrapped around me immediately, heat seeping into muscles I hadn’t realized were clenched until they finally let go.
Noah sat on the edge of the tub, one hand resting on my knee above the waterline. He traced a slow circle there with his thumb, grounding instead of stirring, his presence steady and close.
“How is it?”
My eyes about rolled into my head. “Heaven. My goodness, this is perfect.”
He hummed a response, squeezing my knee before releasing me. I opened my eyes, tracking his every move because I wanted his hands on me. I needed his hands on me.
He reached for the towel and dipped it into the water, wringing it out before draping it gently over my shoulders. His hands followed, kneading slowly, deliberately, like he was coaxing tension out instead of fighting it. I leaned forward instinctively, letting my forehead rest against the cool tile as he worked.
For a while, we didn’t talk. He washed my hair with care, fingers gentle against my scalp, rinsing slowly so the water didn’t splash my face. Every touch felt intentional, like he was saying something without words. I’d never felt so taken care of, so loved, while doing something so ordinary.
My eyes stung with emotion, and I let my tears fall. I wasn’t embarrassed or nervous or shy about them—this was so genuine and real, and I couldn’t hide it anymore. I sniffed, and Noah paused.
“Hey, what’s wrong? Why the tears?” He swiped them with his fingers and tilted my chin toward him. “Does it hurt?”
“No, not that.” I smiled, my watery eyes not improving. “I am obsessed with you.”
His delighted grin made my whole night. His eyes seemed to lighten, and any tension in his shoulder disappeared as he bent forward and kissed me. “You have no idea what I’d do for you, Em. The obsession is mutual. Trust me.”
I had to kiss him more. I needed more. I gripped his shirt and tugged, damn well knowing I couldn’t move him, but he let me try. He leaned forward, and I slid my hands up his shirt, over his pecs. “Take this off, Noah, and get in here with me.”
