Chapter 160: Tender Aftercare

Adeline’s POV~

"Yes, Blake," I whispered, opening my eyes and looking straight into his dark gaze. "I want you."

He pressed his body completely against mine, trapping me between his heat and the glass wall, making me feel every single inch of how dangerously hard and desperate he truly was.

He reached down between us, his large hand wrapping around his thick shaft, and slowly rubbed the wet, scorching head slowly against my entrance, slick with the water and with how much I wanted him.

"Adeline..." his voice dropped into a strained, barely audible growl against my ear as he held himself right at my entrance. "Can I please have you now?"

"Yes, Blake," I breathed out, holding onto his broad shoulders tightly as I looked up at him.

He didn’t waste another second. He pushed forward and sank into me in one slow, deep thrust, and the whole world went quiet.

I felt every inch of him, the stretch, the burn, the aching fullness, and my legs nearly gave out. His fingers tightened around my thighs and lifted them around his waist, and he pinned me against the cold glass, his body holding me up as if I weighed nothing at all.

He drew back almost all the way, slowly enough to make me whimper, and when he drove into me again, a moan broke from my lips before I could stop it.

He caught it with his mouth. He kissed me deeply, hungrily, and began to move, steady and unhurried at first, each thrust reaching somewhere deeper than the last, until my nails were dragging down his shoulders and my head fell back against the glass.

"Fuck, you’re so tight," he groaned against my lips, his voice rough and low, a growl rumbling beneath the words.

"You’re so warm, and you’re holding me like you never want to let go. Do you feel what you do to me, Adeline?"

I gasped, my fingers threading through his dark, wet hair. His pace quickened, each thrust deep and deliberate, and the sound of our bodies and our ragged breathing filled the bathroom.

He pushed in so deep that a sharp cry broke from my lips, swallowed by the steam and the rush of water pouring over us. The hot spray ran down his shoulders and over my skin, and the glass at my back was slick and fogged, but I barely felt it.

One of his hands slid between us, and his fingers found my clit and began rubbing slow circles that matched the rhythm of his hips, and every stroke wound the tension tighter until I couldn’t think and could barely breathe. All I could do was say his name, over and over, like a prayer.

"Look at me, Adeline," he growled, his voice rough and low, the water dripping from his lashes. "Don’t close your eyes. I want you to know exactly who is making you feel this way."

"Blake..."

I looked at him, and at the raw, unguarded need on his face. The pleasure crashed through me in a long, trembling wave, I came apart around him, and I clung to his shoulders as my whole body shook. He groaned my name into my neck, his arms locking around me.

"Adeline... fuck, Adeline," he breathed, his voice breaking apart.

He thrust once, twice more, deep and shaking, and then he buried himself inside me and let go, filling me with a long, rough shudder until I felt the warmth of him spilling over.

For a long time we stayed like that, tangled together under the warm water, both of us panting, his forehead resting on my shoulder while the shower washed over us and the steam curled around the shower cubicle.

When I could finally speak, my voice came out barely above a whisper. "You were worried I’d regret it," I said, running my fingers through his wet hair. "But I don’t regret it."

He lifted his head and looked at me, as brushed a wet strand of hair from my cheek, his thumb lingering against my skin. "Good," he said quietly.

He kissed the corner of my mouth, slow and reverent, and I leaned into him, the water running warm around us.

After Blake washed me, slowly and carefully, he shut off the water and wrapped a black bathrobe around my shoulders. He knotted the belt at my waist himself, his knuckles brushing my stomach, and then he pulled on another robe on him without once looking away from me.

I was still shivering from what had happened against that glass, still moving through my body in slow, aftershock waves, my knees weak.

I took one step toward the door, and he was simply there, sliding one arm beneath my knees and the other behind my back, lifting me against his chest again.

"Blake, I can walk," I murmured, but I was already smiling, and I knew he could see it.

"I know you can," he said, looking down at me with that low, warm look that made my heart forget its rhythm.

"But you just trembled in my arms, and I’m not in the mood to watch you stumble across a cold floor. Let me carry you. Let me have this one small thing, Adeline, because I have spent so long wanting to take care of you that I don’t know what to do with my hands when I’m not doing it."

I said nothing. I wrapped one arm around his shoulder, and let him carry me out of the bathroom like that, as if we were something ordinary, a man and a woman and a quiet night, and not a prince, a cursed girl, and a bond.

The moment we stepped into the bedroom, the smell reached me. Warm, savoury, rich with spices and fresh bread, it filled the air so completely that my stomach clenched with a hunger I hadn’t realised I was carrying.

He lowered me onto the couch with care and tucked the edge of the robe over my knees. A tray waited on the low table in front of me, steam still curling from the dishes.

"It’s time for your dinner," Blake said, brushing a damp strand of hair from my forehead. "Come on, eat up."

Then he turned and left the room, and I stared at the door for a second, still dazed, before the smell won and I picked up my fork.

He walked back into the room a few minutes later, looking dangerously handsome in a pair of casual black sweatpants and a dark T-shirt that clung to his broad chest. His dark hair was still wet, carelessly pushed back off his forehead.

I had managed to swallow a few warm bites of the delicious food. As I reached out with my fork for another piece, a casual, simple question popped into my head, and I asked it without giving it much thought.

"Did you have your dinner, Blake?" I asked, keeping my voice soft and offhand as I kept my eyes on my plate. "Or were you too busy worrying about making sure mine got brought up here?"

He was crossing toward me, and he stopped. I felt the weight of his gaze before I looked up, and when I did, he was smiling, that slow, charming, devastating smile that always meant trouble.

"Yes, of course," he said. "I just finished having my dinner right before I walked back out here."

He didn’t look away, not for a second. His eyes held mine, dark and steady.

In an instant, the double meaning of his words crashed into my mind. My throat completely locked up mid-swallow, and the food went down entirely the wrong way.

I let out a harsh, embarrassed cough, nearly choking on the spot as a wave of scorching heat flooded my face, burning all the way from my cheeks straight to the tips of my ears.

"Seriously, Blake?" I wheezed out once I managed to catch my breath, glaring up at him with hot cheeks while trying desperately to keep a straight face. "I am actually asking you a serious, normal question for real! Don’t joke around with me right now!"

Blake strolled unhurriedly over to the bedside table, picking up a dry towel, and answered me without even turning his head, though the deep amusement in his voice was impossible to miss.

"And I am giving you an absolute real, honest answer as well, Adeline," he murmured smoothly. He paused, tossing a dark, lingering glance over his broad shoulder, the corner of his mouth lifting into an intoxicating smirk.

"Now stop glaring at me and finish eating your dinner, unless you are actively planning to tempt me into having you for a second round tonight. And I promise you, Adeline, I would not mind one bit... but I have a feeling you would deeply regret letting a hot meal go completely cold."

He picked up the towel and turned back toward me, still smiling, and I did the only thing I could. I looked down at my plate and kept eating, my cheeks burning.

He chuckled softly at my silence, a deep, satisfied sound, and then he was beside me, the couch dipping under his weight, the warmth of his body settling against my side.

He lifted the towel and began to dry my hair with slow, careful strokes.