Chapter twenty-seven
The morning light spills through the curtains, bathing the room in a soft, golden glow.
It dances across the sheets, illuminating the space with an almost ethereal warmth.
I blink against the brightness, my vision still hazy with sleep, my limbs sluggish and heavy as though the night had stolen all my energy.
My heart thrums in a steady rhythm, yet there's an odd flutter in my chest—a familiar sensation I've learned to associate with him.
"Morning," Vince's deep, husky voice cuts through the quiet, sending a slow shiver down my spine. His tone is low, smooth, and filled with something that makes my pulse stutter.
I shift, turning my head toward the source of the voice, and find him lying beside me, still fully dressed in his signature black shirt and dark jeans.
His presence is a solid, comforting weight beside me, yet there's always something sharp and intense about him—like standing too close to a burning fire.
His dark eyes are trained on me, filled with a knowing amusement, the corner of his lips curling into a small smirk.
A blush creeps up my neck, my heart pounding a little harder beneath my ribs. How long has he been watching me? More importantly, why is he still here? He always leaves before dawn, slipping away like a ghost before the world wakes up. But today, he stayed.
The realization sinks in, and with it comes a wave of sudden awareness. I sit up abruptly, the blanket sliding from my body. Cool air kisses my bare skin, and that's when it hits me—I'm completely naked.
A startled gasp escapes my lips, and I clutch at the duvet, yanking it up to cover myself. Panic flares in my chest, my mind scrambling for an explanation, for a memory, anything—
"I already saw everything last night," Vince murmurs, his voice thick with amusement.
My eyes snap to his, and the lazy smirk he wears only deepens, dark amusement flickering behind his gaze.
"You're so damn presumptuous," I huff, my fingers tightening around the duvet as if it were my last line of defense.
He shrugs, utterly unfazed, his confidence maddeningly effortless. "Perhaps."
Before I can retort, he moves—fluid and precise—as he rises from the bed and extends a hand toward me. "Come on."
I hesitate, my pulse racing wildly. There's something in his gaze, something unreadable yet undeniably magnetic, pulling me toward him despite my every instinct screaming at me to stay put.
Slowly, hesitantly, I reach for his hand. His grip is firm, steady, and as soon as our skin touches, a spark shoots up my arm, leaving me breathless. He tugs me to my feet, and my legs nearly give out beneath me. A sharp ache pulses between my thighs—a reminder of last night's passion.
I bite my lip, heat crawling up my skin, but Vince, ever observant, notices. A smirk plays at his lips, though he doesn't comment. Instead, he leads me toward the bathroom with purposeful strides, closing the door behind us with a quiet click.
The room is warm, the scent of lavender and something sweet filling the air.
Steam curls from the bathtub as water rushes in, the surface rippling under the golden glow of the overhead lights.
Vince moves with a quiet efficiency, his movements deliberate as he adjusts the temperature before turning back to me.
His gaze sweeps over me, dark and unreadable. Then, without a word, he reaches for the edge of the duvet. My breath catches as his fingers brush against my wrist, the heat of his touch searing against my skin.
"Let go," he murmurs, his voice a quiet command.
I swallow hard, my fingers trembling as I loosen my grip. The duvet slips from my grasp, pooling at my feet in a whisper of fabric. Vince's eyes darken, his gaze raking over my exposed form with a quiet intensity that steals the air from my lungs.
Before I can say anything, he bends slightly and lifts me effortlessly into his arms. My fingers dig into his shoulders on instinct, my body pressing against his warmth as he lowers me into the waiting bath.
The hot water engulfs me, a sharp contrast to the cool air, and I let out a soft sigh, my body sinking into the soothing embrace. The tension in my muscles begins to unravel, the aches fading beneath the comforting heat.
I glance up at Vince just as he begins to undress.
His red shirt is the first to go, followed by his belt and trousers, leaving him in nothing but his black boxers.
The way he moves is deliberate—slow, confident, as though he knows exactly what effect he has on me.
My gaze traces the defined lines of his torso, the way his muscles flex beneath his skin, the way the dim lighting casts soft shadows along the hard ridges of his body.
"Move forward," he instructs, his voice low and steady.
I comply, scooting forward as he steps into the bath behind me. His legs cage mine, his chest a solid warmth at my back.
A breathless tension lingers in the air, thick and heavy. Then, Vince surprises me.
His fingers thread into my damp hair, working gently to untangle the strands. The sensation is unexpected—intimate in a way that makes my throat tighten. His fingers are surprisingly gentle, moving with practiced ease as he slowly begins braiding my hair.
A soft smile tugs at my lips. "No one's ever done this for me before."
His hands pause briefly before resuming their work. "Didn't lover boy ever do this?"
I let out a short laugh, turning slightly to look at him. "No, never. Would you be jealous if he did?"
Vince hums, his fingers brushing against the nape of my neck, sending a pleasant shiver down my spine. "I'm not the jealous type. Unlike you, my love."
I snort, shaking my head. "You're joking, right?"
His dark eyes meet mine, a teasing glint flickering within them. "Do I look like I'm joking?"
I pause, pretending to consider it. "Yes."
Vince raises a brow, amused. "Yes?"
I grin. "No."
A low chuckle rumbles from his chest. "What's it going to be, love? Yes or no?"
"Stop confusing me!" I laugh, warmth blooming in my chest. "You're incredibly distracting."
His hand slides down to my hip, pulling me just a little closer. The charged space between us hums, the heat of the bath doing little to cool the fire building between us. I part my lips to say something, but before I can, Vince closes the distance.
Our lips crash together, the kiss deep and consuming. His mouth is warm, his taste intoxicating. A soft moan escapes me as his hands trail along my sides, his grip possessive, demanding.
When we break apart, breathless, our foreheads press together.
"It's not very polite to tell someone to shut up," he murmurs against my lips, his voice tinged with amusement.
I smirk. "I'm not just anyone."
His eyes darken slightly, his grip tightening ever so slightly at my waist. "You've got that right."
Before I can respond, he stands abruptly, water cascading down his body. In one swift motion, he scoops me into his arms, making me gasp.
He carries me effortlessly back to the bed, dropping me onto the mattress before hovering over me. His gaze burns into mine as he reaches for a condom wrapper, tearing it open with practiced ease.
"Round four?" I tease, breathless.
His lips curl into a smirk, his eyes darkening considerably.
Instead of answering, he moves.
And just like that, the night begins again.
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