Flora's POV
I sat there in the aftermath, my naked body cooling against the plush fabric of the couch. My mind was a storm, torn between guilt and confusion. How could I have let this happen? Jonathan wasn’t safe. He wasn’t someone I could trust. Yet, I’d given in so easily.
The way he touched me, the way his lips felt against mine—it was intoxicating, but it also felt wrong. My body had betrayed me, responding to his advances even though my mind screamed for restraint. Was it fear? Manipulation? Or something more primal that I didn’t understand?
As I wrapped my arms around myself, his phone buzzed on the coffee table. The sound shattered my thoughts like glass. My eyes darted to it.
Not again.
I had noticed earlier that his phone had buzzed several times, and I hadn’t checked it. This time, I felt compelled to act. Whatever message was coming through, it might hold the answers I needed.
I glanced toward the staircase where Jonathan had disappeared to shower. The faint sound of running water echoed down. I had to move quickly.
Clutching a blanket around me, I rose from the couch and padded quietly toward the stairs. My heart hammered against my ribs. Every step came with a different kind of sound, a different kind of fear from the last. It was like I was about to make a wrong decision.
But nothing as wrong as sleeping with my kidnapper.
At the top of the stairs, I froze. Jonathan emerged from the bathroom, a towel slung low around his hips. Water glistened on his chest, beads rolling down his skin, and his hair was damp, tousled in a way that made him look both dangerous and effortlessly seductive.
“Dahlia,” he said, his voice a soft rumble. His eyes flicked over me, lingering, and I tightened the blanket around myself.
“I… I was just thinking I should take a bath,” I stammered, trying to sound casual.
His lips curved into a slow smile. “Good idea. It might help you relax after everything.”
I nodded, swallowing hard.
“I’ll prepare the bathroom for you,” he offered, stepping aside to let me pass.
As I walked toward the bathroom, I let the blanket drop slightly, just enough to catch his attention. His gaze darkened, and I felt a strange mix of power and unease. At the doorway, I turned back to him.
“Why don’t you stay?” I asked softly. “Watch me.”
His brow arched in surprise, but he didn’t argue. He settled onto the edge of the bed, his eyes following me as I stepped inside.
The bathroom was stunning, sleek and modern with frosted glass walls that offered just enough privacy while still being tantalizingly transparent. I turned on the shower, letting the steam rise and obscure me slightly.
The water cascaded over my skin, warm and soothing, but I couldn’t relax. I was too aware of his presence, of his eyes fixed on me through the glass. I felt like prey under his gaze, even as I tried to play the part of the confident seductress.
Then I heard it—the faint buzz of his phone again.
I glanced out of the corner of my eye. Jonathan’s expression shifted, his attention breaking. He stood, tightening the towel around his waist.
“Excuse me,” he said, his tone calm but firm.
My pulse quickened.
“No,” I whispered under my breath.
I couldn’t let him see those messages. I had no idea what they said, but I was certain they held something I needed to know. As he moved toward the staircase, I acted on instinct.
I turned off the water and lunged out of the shower, still dripping. My wet feet slapped against the bathroom tiles, and I grabbed a nearby robe to cover myself as I darted after him.
“Jonathan, wait!” I called out, my voice laced with urgency.
He paused at the top of the stairs, turning to look at me.
“What is it, Dahlia?” he asked, his tone sharp, though his eyes softened slightly when they met mine.
I hesitated, searching for an excuse. “I… I just wanted to say thank you. For earlier.”
His brow furrowed, confused. “You’re thanking me now?”
“Yes,” I said quickly, forcing a small smile. “I realized I never properly thanked you for everything you’ve done—for saving me, for…” My voice trailed off as I struggled to find the right words.
Jonathan’s expression softened further, and he took a step toward me.
“You don’t have to thank me,” he said, his voice low. “I told you, I’d do anything to keep you safe.”
His words made my skin crawl, but I kept my smile intact.
“I know,” I said. “But it means a lot to me.”
I reached out, brushing my fingers against his arm. It was a bold move, but I needed to distract him.
Jonathan’s gaze darkened again, and he stepped closer, his body radiating heat. His hand came up to cup my face, his thumb brushing against my cheek.
“Dahlia,” he murmured, his voice heavy with emotion.
I felt trapped, the walls closing in around me. I had to think fast.
“Jonathan,” I said, my voice softening. “Why don’t we go back downstairs? I’ll make us some tea.”
He frowned slightly, clearly caught off guard by the suggestion.
“Tea?” he echoed, as if the word were foreign to him.
“Yes,” I said, nodding eagerly. “Something to help us both relax.”
For a moment, I thought he might agree. But then his phone buzzed again, louder this time, and his expression hardened.
“Hold that thought,” he said, turning away.
“No!” I blurted, louder than I intended.
Jonathan stopped,glancing back at me with suspicion.
"What's going on, Dahlia?" he asked, his tone sharp.
I was out of excuses, out of time. I was responding either. So, when he turned back toward the sitting, I lunged forward grabbing his arm.
"Jonathan, wait," I said, desperately.
He yanked his arm free, his face annoyed. "Dahlia, what the hell are you up to?"
"I just.... I just don't want to be alone in the shower," I said, my voice trembling.
He studied my eyes for a long time, his face melting at my words. Then he sighed and relaxed his shoulders.
"Alright," he said. "Come on. Let's go upstairs and finish that bath."
I had to buy myself as much time as possible to get away before midnight. Or at least before Jonathan saw that text.