The world dissolved into warm, velvet darkness. I floated there, peaceful and blank, unable to remember how to form words. Nothing existed except the comforting void and distant sensations of heat and weight against my skin.
A deep voice rumbled through me, though I couldn’t make out the words at first. Time didn’t exist here in the darkness—I could have been floating for seconds or hours before meaning started to filter through. Everything felt soft and hazy, my body light and tingling.
“Breathe for me, bunny.” The command penetrated the fog, and I sucked in a shaky breath, then another, each one bringing me closer to reality. “That’s it. Come back to me.” Gentle fingers stroked my face, the touch grounding me to my body. “Open those beautiful eyes.”
My eyelids felt heavy, and I struggled to obey. When I managed it, his face filled my vision, that devastating mouth curved in a soft smile. The pad of his thumb brushed over my cheek, catching errant wetness. I tried to speak, to thank him, but my tongue wouldn’t cooperate. All I could manage was a soft, broken sound as aftershocks of pleasure still rippled through me.
“Welcome back,” he murmured, those calloused fingers still stroking my face. Every touch sent little sparks through my oversensitive skin. His other hand moved to my chest, palm flat against my thundering heart. “Keep breathing for me.”
The world filtered back slowly—scents of leather and cedar, the weight of him against me, distant sounds of traffic through the windows. My hands were still stretched above my head, fingers tingling as circulation returned. When I tried to move them, my muscles protested the change.
He caught my clumsy attempt, guiding my arms down with careful attention. His fingers worked over my wrists, the gentle massage drawing a soft sound from my throat. “Easy,” he said, pressing soft kisses to the tender skin there. “Let me take care of you.”
I wanted to tell him I was fine, that I didn’t need taking care of, but my mouth still wouldn’t form words. He gathered me against his chest, and I melted into his warmth, my head tucked under his chin.
He held me like that until my breathing steadied, a hand running slow circles across my shoulders. The cotton of his shirt felt soft against my cheek. When he shifted, I made a sound of protest that would have embarrassed me if I’d had the energy to care.
“Just getting you more comfortable,” he murmured, lips brushing my temple. He repositioned us on the sofa, my body draped over his chest. The throw blanket he pulled over us was silk-soft against my skin.
His fingers carded through my hair in a way that made my eyes flutter closed. “Think you can drink something for me?” When I managed a small nod, he reached for what looked like crystal on the side table. “Small sips.”
The rim of the glass pressed against my lips. The liquid was cool and sweet—not the strange drink fromearlier, just water, but it felt like heaven on my parched throat. His other hand never stopped its gentle movements in my hair.
When I’d managed a few sips, he set the glass aside. Everything felt soft and hazy, my body melting further into his warmth with each gentle touch. The steady thrum of his heartbeat under my ear grounded me to the moment.
“You did so well for me,” he praised. The words sparked something warm in my stomach. My fingers curled into his shirt, holding on as if he might disappear.
Time moved strangely—I might have dozed, floating in and out of awareness to find his hands still moving in soothing patterns across my skin. At some point, rich scents of chocolate and fruit teased my senses.
“You need to eat something.” His voice drew me back from the edge of sleep. “Just a little.” When I opened my eyes, I found him holding what looked like a piece of expensive dark chocolate.
He pressed the chocolate against my lips, and the decadent taste bloomed across my tongue. The simple act of letting him feed me should have felt strange, but in this soft, floating headspace, it felt natural.
“There you are,” he murmured as awareness slowly returned to my eyes. A sip of water followed the chocolate, then what tasted like fresh strawberries. Each bite was offered with infinite patience, his touch remaining gentle.
The room felt different now, less threatening. The leather beneath had warmed to our body heat. I shifted, testing muscles that felt pleasantly worn.
“How are you feeling?” he asked, thumb brushing over my chin to catch a drop of water.
I had to swallow twice before I could find my voice. “Like I’m floating.”
The world still felt soft at the edges when Kronos helped me up from the couch. My legs were shaky, and he steadied me with a hand on my lower back as he guided me through the house.
The bathroom took my breath away—all marble and antique brass fixtures, with a massive claw-foot tub that could have fit four people. Steam already rose from the water, carrying the scent of luxury bath oils. The soft light from art déco sconces made the polished surfaces glow.
He helped me into the warm water first, his hands steady and sure. I sank into the heat with a contented sigh, letting it soothe my sore muscles.
The water shifted as Kronos slid in behind me, and I tensed for a moment before his hands found my shoulders. Strong fingers worked into the knots there, drawing a low moan of appreciation from my throat. I relaxed back against the solid warmth of his chest.
The water shifted with each measured movement of his hands, tiny ripples catching the soft light. I melted further into his touch, head falling forward as his thumbs worked along my spine. His breath stirred the damp hair at my nape. Shame crept in at the edges ofmy pleasure.
I bit my lip hard, trying to focus on the physical sensation rather than the voice in my head.Undeserving. Worthless. Taking advantage.The pressure of Kronos’s thumbs found a knot of tension, and I gasped, the pain-pleasure silencing my self-loathing. I didn’t know how to accept this tenderness without questioning it, without waiting for the moment he’d realize I wasn’t worth the effort. My shoulders tensed under his touch.
“You’re thinking too much,” he whispered in my ear, as if he could read the battle in my mind. His hands never stopped their methodical work, pressing into muscles that had forgotten how to relax. No one had ever just touched me to make me feel good, not without expecting something in return. What would he want later? What would be the price for this moment of care?
I shifted, and his breath caught. The slight movement made me very aware of his arousal pressed against me. His hands stilled on my waist. “Tonight is all about you. This proximity has its side effects, but don’t feel pressured to do more.”
“I want to,” I breathed, pressing back against him. His grip tightened, fingers digging into my hips, drawing a sharp gasp from my throat.
