Sebastian's fingers trail along my arm, from shoulder to wrist and back again, reminding me that I'm not alone in this darkness I've fallen into. His touch is light enough to raise goosebumps despite the heat of the water.
"Your freckles continue all the way down your arms," he murmurs against my hair, voice low and intimate in the steamy quiet. "I never noticed before."
I make a small sound of acknowledgment as his fingertips continue their exploration. It should feel intrusive, being studied this carefully when I'm at my most vulnerable. Instead, it grounds me, reminds me that I'm still here, still whole, even if everything inside feels shattered.
"I know words mean nothing right now," he says, tightening his arms around my middle. "But I'm sorry you're hurting. If I could take your pain, I would."
The simple sincerity in his voice breaks through something in me, some final barrier I've been holding up.
I shift in his arms, settling deeper into the cradle of his body. My head finds the spot where his shoulder meets his neck. His skin is warm against my cheek, slightly stubbled jaw rough against my forehead. I can hear his heartbeat like this, steady and strong, anchoring me when I feel like I might float away into nothingness.
"You've already done more than you'll ever know," I murmur, the words muffled against his skin. Some small part of me marvels at how quickly this intimacy has become comfortable, how natural it feels to be skin to skin with this man who, a week ago, I only knew as my brilliant, demanding boss.
Tilting my head, I press my lips to the pulse point in his neck.
"I care about you too," I whisper, the confession spilling out with surprising ease. When he'd said those words in my apartment, they had seemed impossible, undeserved even. Now, cradled in his arms in a cabin in the middle of nowhere, they feel like the only truth worth saying.
I pull back slightly, expecting him to stop me if I try to kiss him again, remembering how firmly he'd rejected my desperate advances in my apartment. Instead, Sebastian's hand comes upto cradle the back of my head, fingers tangling in my damp hair. His eyes search mine, dark and serious in the low light.
"I'm not trying to distract myself anymore," I tell him, needing him to understand the difference. "I just... need to feel connected to something good right now." I swallow hard. "To someone good."
Something shifts in his expression, tension melting into tenderness. His thumb traces the curve of my jaw, catching a droplet of water that rolls down my cheek.
Then he leans in and presses his mouth to mine. Unlike my desperate attempt to escape pain through physical sensation, this kiss is tender and full of unspoken emotion. His lips are soft against mine, yielding rather than demanding, giving rather than taking.
The kiss deepens naturally, his hand still cradling my head as if I'm something precious, something worth protecting. When we finally separate, Sebastian presses his forehead against mine. His eyes remain closed, lashes casting shadows on his cheeks.
"That was..." he begins, then shakes his head slightly, as if words are inadequate.
I understand completely. That kiss wasn't about physical desire, though that's certainly still there between us. It was about connection. About finding an anchor in the storm. About acknowledging that whatever is happening between us goes deeper than either of us expected.
"Yeah," I whisper, my fingers tracing the line of his collarbone.
He opens his eyes then, meeting my gaze with an intensity that would have made me look away a week ago. Now, I hold it, letting him see all the broken pieces, all the raw edges, all the parts of me I usually keep hidden.
"The water's getting cold," he says softly, though he makes no move to release me.
I nod, but don't pull away either. For the first time since Cheryl's death—since my father's death, if I'm being honest—I don't feel the crushing weight of failure pressing down on me. The grief is still there, the pain still razor-sharp, but in Sebastian's arms, in this moment of connection, I can breathe through it.
"A few more minutes?" I ask, settling back against his chest, my head tucked beneath his chin.
He tightens his arms around me. "As long as you need."
And for now, that's enough. The path ahead is still uncertain, still terrifying. I've thrown away my career, burned bridges I may never be able to rebuild. I'll have to face the consequences of my actions, the reality of my losses. But in this moment, in Sebastian's arms, I find a quiet certainty that I won't have to face it alone.
For tonight, that has to be enough.
Chapter 34
Sebastian
Mia's body is tucked against mine, her wild curls spreading across the pillow like flames. She's still asleep, her breathing deep and even and the weight of her against me creates a pressure in my chest that has nothing to do with physical discomfort and everything to do with how right this feels.
I breathe in deeply, catching the scent of her hair, a blend of Ruthie's herbal bath salts and something uniquely Mia. The memory of carrying her from the bath to the bed flashes through my mind. How she'd drowsed against my chest, how I'd dried her with gentle care before we'd slipped beneath the covers and she immediately curled against me.
We hadn't done anything. She'd been too raw, too fragile, and I'd been content just to hold her, to feel her breath even out against my skin as sleep claimed her.
But now, with morning warming the cabin and her naked skin pressed against mine, my body has other ideas. My cock stirs, hardening against the curve of her ass. I shift slightly, trying tocreate some distance, but she makes a small noise of protest in her sleep and presses back against me.
