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I laughed and poured a little beneath the running water before adding a handful of bath salts. The water pouring from the faucet stirred everything together, carrying the orange blossom through the rising steam.

“Oh, I’m definitely not getting out.”

Lachlan chuckled. “I’m pretty sure you will.”

A thick stack of white towels sat on an open shelf beside the tub, with two larger ones hanging from a heated rail near the shower. I touched one as I passed and smiled at how warm and soft it was.

Everything in this place seemed designed to make ordinary life indecently comfortable.

I removed Mamá’s locket and set it safely on the counter. Then I pulled my top over my head.

When I glanced toward Lachlan, he was leaning one hip against the vanity, openly watching me.

“You could pretend not to stare.”

“Why would I do that?”

I shook my head and pushed my jeans down.

His gaze followed every inch.

“Subtle.”

“Never claimed to be.”

By the time I stepped out of my panties, there was nothing restrained about the way he was looking at me or the rise in his pants.

I pointed toward the shower. “Your turn.”

“Aye, bossy little thing.”

I lowered myself into the tub. Hot water wrapped around my legs and hips, and I sighed as I slid deeper. Once I started the jets, the force of the water worked over muscles still sore from everything that had happened.

“Mmm.”

Lachlan smiled as he unbuttoned his shirt. “Good?”

I rested my head against the back of the tub. “Oh, this is incredible.”

“Told you you’d like it.”

“This may be the best thing in your penthouse.”

“Careful, Mouse. I’m standing right here.”

My attention left the bath as his shirt came off.

The bruises across his torso had begun to change color, black and purple fading to ugly shades of yellow and green. Small electrical burns dotted his skin, while scratches and red marks crossed his back and shoulders. The cut along his cheek was already healing, but the rest of him still carried far too much evidence of the dungeon.

I hated seeing it.

He caught me staring as he stripped off his jeans.

“Don’t.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You don’t have to. I know you’re worrying about my injuries.” He stepped beneath the shower spray. “My ribs ache, and I look like hell. But I’ll live.”