Chapter 77 Aslan
Aslan
The steam from the hot tub curled up to meet the warm air from the fireplace, fogging the windows of the cabin and sealing us in our own little world. Soft music played from a speaker on the counter, and the air was thick with the scent of sandalwood and the clean, sharp smell of snow outside. A dozen or more candles flickered, casting dancing shadows on the walls and turning the bathroom into a sanctuary.
We stood there for a moment, just looking at each other, the unspoken question hanging between us. Aitor reached out first, his fingers gently tucking a stray piece of hair behind my ear. His touch was hesitant, almost reverent.
"Let me," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the bubbling water.
My breath hitched as his hands moved to the hem of my shirt. His knuckles brushed against my stomach, and I felt a jolt all the way to my toes. He lifted it slowly, his eyes never leaving mine. As the fabric cleared my head, his gaze softened, taking in my chest, my shoulders, as if he were memorizing every line, every freckle. He didn't just see skin; he saw me. It was terrifying and exhilarating all at once.
My hands trembled slightly as I reached for the collar of his shirt. The cotton was soft and warm from his body. I peeled it back over his shoulders, my fingertips tracing the hard lines of his collarbones, the defined muscles of his arms. I had to fight the urge to just lean in and press my lips to his chest. Instead, I let my hands fall to the button of his jeans.
The sound of the zipper seemed impossibly loud in the quiet room. He was watching me, his breathing shallow, his dark eyes wide and honest. There was no rush, no frantic energy. This was different. This was sacred. I hooked my thumbs into his waistband, pushing the denim down his hips. He helped, stepping out of them, and now he was standing before me in just his boxers, the candlelight painting him in gold and shadow.
He reached for my jeans then, his movements mirroring my own. The button popped, the zipper slid down, and he knelt as he guided them down my legs. His face was level with my hips, and I could feel the heat from his cheek on my skin. He looked up at me from his knees, and the raw trust in his eyes made my heart ache.
We were down to the last layer. He stood, and his fingers hooked into the waistband of my boxers. He paused, giving me one last look, a silent question. I answered by lifting my hips slightly, giving him permission. He slid them down, and I stood before him, completely bare, feeling more vulnerable and more seen than I ever had in my life.
Now it was his turn. My hands were shaking, but my touch was sure as I hooked my fingers into the last piece of clothing he wore. I knelt, just as he had, and slowly pulled them down his legs. I looked up, and there he was. All of him. Not just the beautiful body I'd admired from afar, but Aitor. Flawless and perfect.
He helped me to my feet, and we stood there for a long moment, naked and unashamed, our bodies casting long, dancing shadows on the walls.
When he finally stepped into the tub, he watched me with those incredible dark eyes, a soft smile playing on his lips. "You coming in, or are you just going to stand there looking beautiful?" he asked, his voice a low rumble.
I laughed, a little nervous, a lot excited. "Just admiring the view."
And God, what a view it was. My gaze drifted over his broad chest, down his flat stomach, to the dark trail that disappeared beneath the water. His long, dark hair was damp and slicked back, falling in waves over his neck and shoulders. He looked like a prince from some old fairytale, a beautiful, perfect work of art carved from marble and brought to life just for me. How had I not seen it before? How had I been so blind, so caught up in the ghost of Garrett, that I hadn't noticed the absolute perfection right in front of me?
"Hey," he said softly, pulling me from my thoughts. "You okay?"
"Yeah," I breathed, stepping closer to the edge of the tub. "More than okay." I knelt down, my knees on the soft bathmat, and leaned in to kiss him. It was slow and deep, a promise of everything to come. "You know," I said against his lips, "I'm kind of glad our other attempts were… interrupted."
Aitor pulled back, a curious look on his face. "Yeah? Even after you left me half done in my bath?"
I felt my cheeks heat up, but I grinned. "Especially after that. We weren't ready. It would have been… frantic. This feels better. Right."
He nodded, his eyes searching mine. "So… should we give it another shot? Maybe a little more romantic this time?"
"Definitely," I whispered, tracing the lines of his collarbones, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath my palm.
The air was warm on my skin, but I shivered anyway. His gaze was so intense, so honest. It was like he was seeing me for the first time.
He helped me into the hot tub then, the hot water a delicious shock against my cool skin. I sighed, leaning back against the jetted wall as he settled in front of me, pulling me close. The water swirled around us, and I wrapped my legs around his waist, our bodies pressed together from chest to knee.
"This is nice," he murmured, his lips finding the sensitive spot just below my ear.
"It's perfect," I gasped as his teeth grazed my earlobe.
His hands roamed my back, my sides, my ass, pulling me even tighter against him. I could feel him, hard and ready, pressed against my own growing erection. The thought of what was about to happen, of what we were finally going to do, sent a thrill through me so intense it made my head spin.”
Aitor’s voice dropped to a whisper against my skin.
“You are so beautiful… so perfect,” he murmured softly. “You make me feel.”
Feel...
The word echoed somewhere deep in my chest.
For a second, I wondered if that was what I had been chasing all along. If this moment, his touch, his warmth around me, was finally going to be the thing that made everything inside me come alive the way it was supposed to.
I closed my eyes and let myself sink into it—into Aitor’s hands, his breath, the quiet closeness of the water around us.
Into the moment.
But when I opened them again and felt something warm sliding down my cheek, I realized I had already been feeling.
More than I wanted to admit.
More than I knew how to stop.
And the worst part was, deep down, I was sure those feelings didn't belong to the person holding me.