ALICIA'S POV
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My gaze swept over his naked form, and this time, I didn't look away.
I didn't flinch at the scar that cut across his skin, or the slow, steady rise and fall of his chest. His grip tightened around the sponge, knuckles straining.
His eyes widened.
"You're certain?" he asked, voice low.
I nodded.
His stormy gaze dragged over me, and his mouth curved—something between a smirk and surprise. He didn't drop the sponge, but he rose, fluid and purposeful, then stepped toward me.
Tanned. Bare. The warm light spilled over him, gilding every line of his body—and I couldn't stop staring, not even at what hung between his legs.
He stepped into the tub. I shifted to make space, then leaned my back against his.
"You're getting bold," he whispered, lips brushing my ear before sucking gently on the lobe. A shiver raced down my spine and curled into my toes.
"I like it," he murmured, breath warm.
