As Alicia stepped out of the tub, steam trailing behind her like mist off a midnight lake, towel wrapped tightly around her body, damp strands of hair clinging to her cheeks and shoulders. The marble floor was cool beneath her aching feet, a cruel contrast to the warmth she'd just risen from. She moved slowly, cautiously—her legs wobbling with the memory of snow sprints and failed tree climbs. Her calves felt like overcooked noodles, her thighs betrayed every step with a low whimper of protest. But she walked anyway, one foot in front of the other, pretending she wasn't on the verge of collapsing right there on the bathroom floor.
And of course—there he was.
Adrien stood waiting near the vanity, arms crossed over his chest, posture infuriatingly relaxed. One ankle was hooked casually over the other, his head tilted slightly as he watched her, eyes sharp and unblinking. He made no attempt to hide his amusement. Or his gaze.
It trailed over her like a slow, deliberate touch.
