Bella’s breath hitched. The feeling was overwhelming in its simplicity. It wasn’t just the contact; it was the care in it. Her heart skipped and then raced, sending waves of warmth through her limbs. She didn’t understand why sothing so soft could make her feel as if her whole body was trembling inside.
His touch was steady, patient, as if he was afraid to startle her, as if she were sothing rare that might break if handled carelessly. The realization made her chest ache and her eyes sting for a mont.
He never crossed a boundary, never took more than what she offered, yet every glide of his hand carried a burning intimacy. When his palm settled against her stomach—warm and slow, his touch a whisper over damp skin—she drew in a sharp breath, the sound trembling in her throat as though he had found sothing far more delicate than flesh.
She bit her lower lip without thinking, her voice barely more than air.
"H-how... how are you going to wash the rest?" she asked, her gaze unfocused, not knowing where to look, feeling his presence everywhere.
He could hear the uncertainty wrapped in trust, the shy question pulsing softly between them. "I’ll stop when you tell to," Leo said, his voice quiet, the promise threading through each word. "You’re the one in control here, not ."
His hands slipped beneath the water with unhurried grace, and she felt his fingers at her thighs—respectful, distant enough not to sha her, close enough that every nerve in her body ca alive. Bella’s breath faltered, her toes curling beneath the surface as the sandalwood-slick warmth traced a slow path over her skin. He moved with deliberate care, his touch never suggestive, never rough. It felt like a vow in motion.
The water whispered against his wrists as he slid lower, skimming along her knees and down her calves. His thumbs drew small circles that made the tension lt from her muscles, coaxing comfort where there had been stiffness. When he reached her feet, he cupped them as if they were fragile, lifting them slightly, washing away petals and soap with gentle strokes. The faint rasp of his hands, the contrast of his warmth against the cooling water, sent a subtle shiver stretching up her legs and into her spine.
Bella felt as if ti had slowed just for them. The world outside the bathroom no longer existed. There was only the pale gold glow through the mist, the scattered rose petals drifting lazily around her, the soft music of water, and the man beside her whose touch made it hard to rember how to breathe steadily. She opened her eyes once and saw only his blurred outline beside the tub, his head bent in concentration, his shoulders relaxed yet controlled. The fact that he could not see her, but still touched her as if she was sothing sacred, made her heart twist.
"Are you cold?" Leo asked quietly, breaking the silence with a voice that sounded closer than his body was.
She shook her head, then rembered his words and forced her voice out. "No... it’s warm," she breathed. "Too warm, maybe."
A quiet smile pulled at his lips. "Then it’s just right," he replied, contentnt tucked neatly beneath his tone.
He rinsed her with the sa patient care, letting clear water spill from his cupped hands over her shoulders, along her arms, down her legs. Each pour felt like a benediction, washing away not just soap but the fear and self-consciousness she didn’t know she had been carrying. The rose petals clung to her skin for a second before sliding away, leaving a soft trail of scent behind. Underneath it all was sothing faintly sweet that he recognized as uniquely hers.
When he was done, he didn’t leave. He stayed close, his eyes drawn to the faint silhouette of her body through the veil of steam. The mist curled around her like a secret, and the soft light traced her shape. For a mont, neither of them spoke. Then his voice broke the low and rough. "You’re beautiful," he said, the words falling between them like a touch.
Bella’s lashes fluttered. Heat flushed her cheeks, not from the bath, but from the sincerity in his tone. She turned slightly, her wet hair clinging to the curve of her neck. "You’re not even looking at ," she murmured, trying to hide her fluster behind a fragile tease, her voice shaking sowhere between shyness and sothing softer.
"I don’t have to," Leo said simply. "So things you just feel."
The words sank into her, slow and deep. Her heart gave a heavy, tender thud, and a strange calm settled over her, wrapping around the tension until it faded. She lowered her gaze to her hands resting on her knees, slim fingers glistening with droplets, and for the first ti in a long while, she realized she did not feel exposed. She felt safe. Kept. Seen, even in the one mont where he refused to see her.
Leo finally rose to his feet, reaching for a towel. He did not glance back. Holding it out behind him, eyes turned to the door, he spoke in that sa quiet tone that always made her listen. "Take your ti, Bunny. I’ll wait right here."
As the mist began to thin, the outline of his back sharpened in her vision. There was sothing in the straight line of his shoulders, the way his hand rested at his side, that felt like a silent shield between her and the world. Bella watched him, her heart beating a little too loudly for her own comfort.
"Leo," she called, so softly she wasn’t sure it would reach him.
But it did. He paused at once, his hand tightening around the doorfra, his head tilting as if he were holding himself back from turning toward her.
"Yes, Bella?" he answered, his voice gentler than the steam.
She hesitated, that tiny stretch of silence heavy with everything she didn’t quite know how to na. Then the words slipped free, small but sincere. "Thank you," she said.
He drew a silent breath, his lips lifting into the kind of smile that no one usually saw. "Always," he replied.
She stood there in the quiet that followed, holding the towel to her chest, feeling her own pulse begin to slow, but her heart refusing to return to normal.
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