Chapter 8 Three Weeks #2
She stepped back into the room, the soft scent of jasmine drifting from her hair, wrapping the air in quiet warmth. Alexander followed, his gaze fixed on her. For a moment, he closed his eyes, breathing her in.
As he entered, a faint smile curved on his lips—subtle, restrained, carrying a trace of something dark and intense. “Don’t worry,” he muttered, closing the door behind him. “I’ll be gentle.”
The sound of the latch clicking shut echoed faintly through the room, trapping the air between them.
Alexander guided her toward the cushioned chair near the window. “Sit here.”
She obeyed, her fingers clutching the armrest as she lowered herself onto the seat.
He took a folded towel from the small table, dipped it into a bowl of cool water, wrung it out, and then gently placed it over her eyes. The faint chill made her lips part in surprise.
“This will calm you,” he said softly.
His voice alone seemed to ease the tension in the room.
He began by massaging her head and scalp with slow, careful motions. His fingers moved through her hair with practiced gentleness, circling her temples and pressing lightly behind her ears. Before long, Mia felt her shoulders sink into the chair.
When his hands slid from her head to her neck, she let out a quiet breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. His palms were warm, firm, yet patient. The strokes along her shoulders made her feel weightless, her body giving in to the comfort she hadn’t felt in a long time.
The soft nightdress Anita had left for her—a simple cotton one, pale blue with faint white flowers—hung loosely on her frame.
It slipped easily when Alexander brushed his fingers along the strap, pushing it gently aside.
The fabric slid down her shoulder without resistance, revealing her smooth skin beneath his touch.
He did the same to the other side, his hands firm yet unhurried as he began to knead the tension from her shoulders, each movement both calming and disarmingly intimate.
However, beneath that calm exterior, Alexander’s eyes gleamed with a hunger he could barely contain. His gaze lingered on her face, watching every small shift of expression as he worked.
‘I’m finally touching you,’ he thought, his pulse quickening as his fingers glided over her delicate skin.
Mia, beneath the towel, tried to steady her breathing. ‘His movements are just like a normal massage… but why does my body feel so hot?’ she wondered. A light heat crept up her neck, but she didn’t move.
His hands slid down her arms, tracing the delicate curve of her wrists before returning to her shoulders. The room was silent except for her soft breathing and the faint hum of the air conditioner.
When Alexander moved to her legs, kneeling in front of her, she stirred slightly. “Now your foot,” he said quietly. He lifted her leg with care, resting her injured foot over his thigh.
He applied the ointment carefully to her ankle and began massaging in circular motions.
When his fingers touched her skin, Mia shifted a little at first, unused to the sensation.
His hands were warm, firm, and slow as they slid up to her calf.
The gentle strokes soon became a rhythm—smooth, hypnotic.
His palm drifted upward, caressing her thighs, his eyes fixed on her face the entire time. Her breath turned uneven.
When his hand slid higher, his fingers grazing her inner thigh, Mia’s body tensed. She pushed the towel aside, her eyes snapping open.
“Mr. Graves…” she whispered, her voice trembling.
Alexander froze. Their eyes locked. Her breath was shallow, her lips parted as she struggled to breathe.
He swallowed hard as his hands traced along her thighs. He arched his body upward, leaning closer until his breath brushed against her neck, his eyes dark with a controlled intensity.
“Mia… don’t make it harder for me to control myself.”
Her heart pounded violently in her chest. She stared at him, her brows drawn together in confusion, but she couldn’t move. She didn’t want to.
His hand lingered on her thigh, tracing upward once more. But just as her pulse raced uncontrollably, he shifted, leaning forward so his breath brushed her cheek before he pressed a gentle, lingering kiss there.
“Get some sleep,” he whispered near her ear.
Mia blinked, dazed, as he rose to his feet. His expression was calm again—too calm for the fire she had seen moments earlier.
Before she could react, Alexander rose to his feet and bent down, slipping one arm beneath her knees and the other around her back. In one swift, effortless motion, he lifted her from the chair. Her breath caught at the sudden movement.
“Mr. Graves—” she gasped, startled. He carried her to the bed and lowered her down with careful precision, then pulled the blanket over her, tucking the edge gently under her chin.
Then his hand moved to her face, tracing down her cheek in a slow, feather-light touch. “Since you’re going to be the future Mrs. Graves,” he said in a low voice, “I don’t mind if you sleepwalk into my room at night.”
Mia’s eyes widened slightly in shock. Before she could respond, he ran his fingers across her forehead, brushing them down her face in one soft stroke.
“Sleep,” he murmured.
Her eyes fluttered shut at his touch. The warmth of his hand, the faint scent of the oil, and the quiet steadiness of his voice lulled her into a peace she hadn’t known in years. Usually, she struggled to fall asleep, but that night, wrapped in his presence, she drifted off within minutes.