He grinned. “If you do what I say, you can’t mess up.”
Relief almost made me lightheaded. He guided me into the bathroom, hand on the back of my neck, and even that was enough to make my knees go watery. The space was huge, all glass and tile and a tub that looked like it belonged in a magazine. Felix moved with purpose, turning on the taps,fiddling with something on the edge. Bubbles. The scent was sharp and clean, and reminded me of him.
“Take the rest of your clothes off,” he told me, voice low. He didn’t turn away. I knew he was watching, so I made myself slip the underwear down my thighs, bare the ugly scars and soft places that always made me want to hide. Felix didn’t look away. Not once. His gaze didn’t flinch, either. Just took every bit of me in, slow and deliberate.
I shivered. Shouldn’t have been cold, but I was. He saw it.
“Get in,” he said. “Careful you don't slip.”
He waited until I’d eased myself down, the heat shocking, almost painful, but so good it wrung a sound right out of my chest. I sank in up to my chin and just…floated. All the aches, the bruises, the tight band around my ribs from wanting too much—all of it softened, just a little. I let my head fall back.
Felix didn’t leave. He rolled up his sleeves and sat on the edge, arm warm against my shoulder. He reached for a washcloth, soaked it, and squeezed it over my back, slowly. The water was hot. The touch was gentle. I shut my eyes, afraid I’d cry if I didn’t.
He washed my arms, my chest, careful around every scar. When I flinched, he made a small hum, nothing sharp, just patience. He did my shoulders, the backs of my hands, then my neck. I didn’t want him to stop.
“You’re holding tension everywhere,” he muttered as he found a knot at the base of my skull. His thumbs worked the muscle until I thought I’d melt into the tub. My mouth wanted to say something, thank him, beg him for more, I didn’t even know.
He got the shampoo and poured it over my hair. The lather felt good, better than anything I’d had in a year. He massaged my scalp, slow and heavy, and I moaned before I could stop it. Felix grinned, but it wasn’t mocking. He actually looked proud.
He rinsed me, made sure nothing got in my eyes.
He didn’t rush. He just kept washing until my skin tingled. He even made sure to check the scrapes on my elbows, the ones I hated. “You need to moisturize,” he commented, almost to himself. “I’ll take care of it.” Like it was just a thing he did for people. Like I was something worth taking care of.
I didn’t want to get out, ever.
He left me while he took a quick shower, then dried himself. He bent and helped me out, wrapping a warm towel around me. He stepped away, and for one heart-stopping second, I thought he’d changed his mind. But he moved behind me, big hands settling on my shoulders, and squeezed, hard enough to make every muscle in my back go soft. I slumped, letting him hold me up, because I knew he wanted to. It was effortless, the way he worked his thumbs into the ache and just…waited for me to relax.
“Breathe,” he murmured.
I sucked in air, dizzy. My knees almost buckled. He held me steady, towel tight around my hips, and pressed his mouth to the side of my neck.
I shuddered. Couldn’t help it.
He grinned against my skin. “Sensitive?” His voice was soft, amused, but not unkind.
“Yes, sir,” I whispered. I must have sounded pathetic, but that made him hum like I’d given the right answer.
He walked me to the bed. I didn’t even try to fight the touch. I wanted it. Needed it. I was half-hard, aching, desperate for anything he’d give me.
He sat first, then drew me down beside him. The towel slipped, but I didn’t move to grab it. Not with his hand firm on my thigh, pushing me right where he wanted me.
“You nervous?” he asked, thumb rubbing circles over my knee.
I nodded. “A little.”
He waited.
“I just…” The words came out small, shaky. “I don’t want to mess up.”
“You won’t,” he promised. “You do what I say, and nothing else matters. Understood?”
Something unknotted in my chest. I nodded, and he grinned, slow and warm.
“Good boy.”
God, I’d never get tired of that.
He got rid of his own towel, and I couldn’t look away. He was huge, broad everywhere, more muscle than I’d ever seen up close. Ginger everywhere, even down below, the cock thick and flushed and already so hard I almost drooled. No way he wanted me, not really, but—
