Chapter 38 Bathroom Benefits
"Ready to see something?" Ethan asked as we finished dinner at an upscale Italian restaurant near campus.
"What kind of something?" I asked.
"You'll see." The corner of his mouth lifted in that slight smirk that told me he was pleased with himself.
Twenty minutes later, his Maybach pulled up to a modern high-rise in Westwood, barely more than a mile from UCLA's campus. The building had a sleek glass exterior with expansive balconies and what looked like a rooftop garden.
"I know this place," I said softly as Ethan guided me into the lobby, his hand resting possessively at the small of my back. "My freshman year, I passed out flyers for Brew LA right around the corner. They paid me ten bucks an hour."
Ethan's eyebrow twitched, but he said nothing as the elevator whisked us to the top floor. When the doors opened, they revealed not a hallway but a private foyer leading to a single door.
The door swung open to reveal a sprawling open-concept space with floor-to-ceiling windows showcasing the LA skyline. Modern furniture in neutral tones, abstract art on walls, and subtle lighting created an atmosphere of understated luxury.
"I never imagined living in a place like this," I whispered, my fingers trailing along a marble countertop in the kitchen area.
"Come," Ethan said, taking my hand. "Let me show you the terrace."
Outside, the expansive terrace featured an infinity-edge pool that seemed to spill into the city lights below. Perfectly manicured greenery created private nooks with comfortable seating.
"The building came furnished, but I had some adjustments made," Ethan explained, watching my reaction carefully. "It's five minutes from campus. Convenient."
"Will you stay here often?" I asked, turning to face him. "Your company isn't exactly close."
"Distance isn't an issue." He reached up, brushing my hair back from my face. "The master bath. I think you'll like it."
The bathroom was something out of a luxury magazine—marble and glass everywhere, double vanities, and a shower large enough for four people. But what caught my eye was the enormous soaking tub, clearly the centerpiece of the room.
"Italian marble," Ethan said, running his hand along the rim. "With water jets."
I raised an eyebrow. "Water jets?"
"Massage function," he clarified, his eyes darkening as they met mine. "Among other features."
My cheeks heated. "Thoughtful," I managed, trying to sound casual despite the blush I could feel spreading down my neck.
"This is specifically for you," he said, stepping closer. "I had it customized."
"You're really into bathtubs?" I attempted humor to mask my sudden nervousness.
"I'm into seeing you enjoy yourself," he murmured, his fingers finding the zipper at the back of my dress. "Shall we test it out?"
I swallowed hard. "Now? But I don't have—"
"Everything you need is here," he interrupted, nodding toward the cabinet. "I've thought of everything, Olivia."
I hesitated, caught between embarrassment and desire. "I should probably just—"
My protest died as Ethan lifted me effortlessly, setting me on the edge of the tub as water began to fill it. "Stop overthinking," he commanded softly, his lips brushing my ear. "Let me take care of you."
The warm water enveloped me as Ethan lowered me into the tub, my last scraps of resistance dissolving. His hands, always so sure and confident, guided me back against his chest as the jets pulsed around us.
"Feel good?" he asked, his voice a low rumble against my back.
I couldn't answer, couldn't form coherent thoughts as his hands moved with deliberate purpose. The combination of the water's pressure and his touch left me gasping, clinging to his forearms.
"Ethan," I breathed, half protest, half plea.
"Let go," he whispered against my neck, his teeth grazing my skin. "I've got you."
And I did, surrendering completely to the sensations he orchestrated with expert precision, crying out as waves of pleasure crashed over me.
Later, he carried me to bed wrapped in a plush towel, my limbs still trembling slightly. When I caught his smug expression, I mustered a weak glare.
"Don't look so pleased with yourself," I mumbled, burrowing into the impossibly soft sheets.
He chuckled, stretching out beside me. "Why shouldn't I be pleased when you're satisfied?" His hand trailed down my side. "That was just the beginning."
I woke the next morning with a start, momentarily confused by the unfamiliar surroundings until memories of the previous night flooded back. The clock on the nightstand read 8:27 AM.
"Shit!" I bolted upright. My Advanced Textile Design seminar started at 9 in the Design Building, clear across campus.
I scrambled for clothes, finding a neatly folded outfit on a chair that hadn't been there the night before. As I rushed through the apartment, I found Ethan in the kitchen, casually sipping coffee in a tailored suit.
"You're going to be late," he observed calmly, offering me a travel mug. "Walter is waiting downstairs."
"Why didn't you wake me?" I grabbed the coffee and a pastry he'd set out.
"You needed rest." His eyes glinted with satisfaction. "After last night's... activities."
I blushed furiously, hurrying toward the door. "I have to go."
His low laugh followed me to the elevator.
I barely made it to class on time, sliding into a seat at the back just as Professor Martinez began her lecture on sustainable fabric innovations. As she discussed eco-friendly dyeing processes, I pulled out my phone and texted Ethan:
You almost made me late. Not cool.
His reply came seconds later: You weren't complaining last night.
This can't happen again.
His response made my heart jump: Threatening me, Olivia?
I quickly typed: Just setting boundaries. For education's sake.
We'll discuss your "boundaries" tonight.
After my last class ended at 3:30, I was surprised to find Ethan himself waiting in his car instead of sending Walter.
"I thought you had meetings today," I said, sliding into the passenger seat.
"The Silicon Valley acquisition just closed. Things are relatively quiet." He pulled into traffic. "I thought we could try this new place in West Hollywood. Private chef from Shanghai."
Over the next two weeks, we fell into a rhythm. I focused on classes during the day. Ethan would try to come home early for dinner when he could. On nights he had business dinners, I'd eat alone or occasionally meet Grace for a quick bite.
No matter how late his meetings ran, Ethan always came home. Sometimes I'd wake to find him sliding into bed at 2 AM, his body automatically curving around mine, pulling me close even in his exhaustion.
One night, just before Labor Day weekend, we lay in bed after he'd thoroughly reminded me how much he'd missed me during his day-long absence. His fingers traced lazy patterns on my bare shoulder as I struggled to keep my eyes open.
"I need to go to the family estate tomorrow," he said quietly.