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I refused to look away even for a single moment. I could feel a gush of hot air emanate from him. He drew circles around my nipple. Usually, this would be the promise of undeniably raw sex, but we both knew I wasn’t up for it tonight. There was no hunger in his eyes… only love.

He brought his head down to my collar bone, and a moment later, I felt his teeth on my skin. Gentle, gentler than he had ever been. But it wasn’t a bite even. He was showing me that he was in perfect control of himself, that his usually ferocious hunger for me was subdued.

Then, he tenderly licked the spot, while his hand kept sliding down my belly. A smile of anticipation tugged at the corners of my lips. My thighs parted easily, as always. I could feel his fingertip moving back and forth gently, arousing me even more.

I wanted more. Always more.

But he was in no rush, which was unusual. We always craved each other. We made love, but it was needy, hungry. This time, he was tender with me, caressing every inch of my body reverently with his fingers, with his breath, with his eyes. I didn’t think I ever loved him more than at this very moment.

His finger slid into me slowly, gently. I moaned, arching my back. I went for his hand without thinking, keeping it in place. I craved what he was offering, the pleasure that he always gave me.

He added another finger, penetrating me deeper, sliding in and out. My entire body tensed. With each of his thrusts, a small explosion of pleasure took hold of me, as warm water surrounded my body. I could barely withstand the combination of his fingers, arched at just the right angle and his tongue on my collar bone.

I closed my eyes, parting my thighs even more, as much as the tub allowed, listening to the sound of splashing water, accompanying the movement of his hand, the sliding of his fingers. I completely let go, knowing that I was safe with him, that he loved me as much as I loved him.

Pleasure didn’t come as a blast, as it usually did. This time, pleasure was a warm embrace, enveloping me from all sides, filling my mind with the ecstasy of a million little stars expanding through my mind’s eye. My insides pulsated, absorbing the sensation, and Lucas knew not to move. He knew to remain close, there, present… mine.

When I opened my eyes, he was watching me. I smiled blissfully, feeling that familiar sleepiness take over. He smiled back, and we remained like that for what seemed like a small eternity.

The water clung to my skin as Lucas reached down, his strong arms lifting me out of the tub. The air felt colder now, and I shivered, curling closer to his chest as he carried me.

“It’s all right,” he murmured, his voice low and steady. “I’ve got you.”

I let my head rest against his shoulder. My limbs felt heavy, my body too tired to hold itself up. I didn’t even flinch when he set me down on the chair beside the fire, wrapping a thick towel around me.

He knelt in front of me, his hands moving carefully, drying my arms and shoulders first. The towel was soft, the heat from the fire warming it as he worked, but it was his touch that soothed me most.

Gentle. Reverent. As if I were something precious.

“You’re quiet,” he said softly, his dark eyes flicking up to meet mine.

“I think I forgot how to feel safe.” My voice barely rose above a whisper.

He stilled, his fingers brushing over my wrist. “You are safe. Here. With me.”

I wanted to believe him. And maybe I did. But the ache in my chest—the fear I hadn’t let myself fully feel—still lingered.

I didn’t say anything else. He didn’t push. Just kept moving the towel over my skin, down my legs, drying every inch of me with care.

When he finished, he stood and pulled one of his shirts from the trunk near the bed. It was too big, the fabric soft and worn. He slipped it over my head, guiding my arms through the sleeves before tugging it down.

It smelled like him.

The thought made my eyes burn, but I blinked quickly, not wanting to fall apart… not now when everything was seemingly alright.

“Come on.” He scooped me up again, as if I weighed nothing, and carried me to the bed.

The sheets were cool against my skin as he laid me down, pulling the blanket up to my shoulders. His hands lingered there for a moment, brushing over my hair, my cheek.

I wanted to stay awake, to keep feeling him close, but the exhaustion was too much. My body sank into the mattress, the warmth of the fire lulling me deeper.

I felt his lips brush my forehead, and I barely managed to whisper, “Stay.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said, his voice rough but certain.

That was the last thing I heard before sleep pulled me under, but it wasn’t long before I woke with a start.

The room was dark, lit only by the dying embers of the fire. Shadows stretched across the walls, long and twisted, but it wasn’t the darkness that made my heart race. It was the dream. The memory.