After patching up Mack's guy as best she could, the adrenaline finally began to drain. Her skin prickled with exhaustion and… something else. A heat she couldn't ignore.
"I'm going to shower," she said, voice a little breathy. "Need to wash off the day—and the blood."
Mack's dark eyes followed her every move.
"I'll wait," he said quietly, voice low and steady.
She gave a tired smile and slipped toward the bathroom.
A few minutes later…
Viola was just stepping into the warm bath when she heard the faint sound of footsteps.
Her eyes widened.
"Mack?" she called, half-hoping he'd turn around.
"Nope," came his teasing reply from behind the door. "I'm not leaving you alone now."
Before she could protest, the door creaked open—and in he came, towel around his waist, that cocky grin already lighting up his face.
"Well," he said, eyebrows arching as he took in the steamy scene. "This is quite the welcome party."
She splashed a little water at him.
He caught it with a laugh and sat on the edge of the tub.
"Didn't realize I was invited," he teased.
"You're not."
He smirked, reaching in and tracing a lazy finger along her arm. "Sure looks like I am."
She raised an eyebrow. "You're lucky I'm in a generous mood."
His hand moved, trailing circles on her shoulder. "We both know I don't get generous often."
Viola chuckled, splashing water toward his chest.
"That's dangerous," he said, mock-serious.
Before she could react, he leaned in, lips brushing her neck. "And you know I like danger."
The steam thickened around them.
He cupped her cheek and kissed her, slow and deep, tasting the day and the tension between them.
His hands moved carefully, washing her arms with a gentleness that surprised her.
She mirrored him, tracing his jawline, fingers sliding through damp hair.
"Careful," she teased, "I might start thinking you actually want to clean me."
Mack laughed low and mischievous.
"Only if you promise to return the favor."
Viola's breath hitched.
"Now, that's an offer I can't refuse."
The warmth of the bath and Mack's touch melted away the tension she'd been carrying all day, but now something else flickered between them—an unspoken challenge, a teasing dance just beneath the surface.
His hands moved slower now, tracing the curve of her collarbone, fingertips skimming the slick skin. She tilted her head back, exposing more of her neck, daring him silently.
"You know," she murmured, "if you keep distracting me like this, I might forget I was supposed to be in charge of this whole bath thing."
Mack's grin was wicked. "Is that a threat or a promise?"
"Maybe both."
He leaned closer, lips brushing hers, just light enough to make her want more, but not so much that he gave it freely.
Then, with a sudden splash, she flicked water at him, laughing as he jumped back.
"Oh, so it's a water fight now?"
She nodded, triumphant, grabbing a washcloth and swiping it across his chest.
He caught her wrist, holding the cloth and pulling her closer. "You're dangerous."
"Just keeping you on your toes."
They smiled, breath mingling, the air thick with anticipation and the scent of soap and something more electric.
Mack's fingers slid under the strap of her soaked shirt, teasing the bare skin beneath.
"Careful," she whispered, voice trembling with need, "or I'll start thinking you're trying to make me cave."
"Good," he said, voice low, "because I don't plan on stopping."
Their lips met again, deeper, hungrier.
The bathwater lapped around them, steam swirling like a curtain shielding their quiet world.
Every touch, every glance was a promise—a slow burn neither wanted to rush.
After a long moment, Mack pulled back slightly, breathing heavy.
"Viola," he said, voice rough, "this is just the beginning."
She smiled, heart pounding.
"Then let's make it worth remembering."
Mack's POV
The steam curled around us like a secret as I leaned in, lips brushing hers with a promise too heavy to ignore. Her skin was warm and slick beneath my fingers, every inch of her fire that I wanted to claim.
Without thinking, I slipped my hands under her arms and lifted her from the bath.
"Easy," she murmured, breath hitching as I carried her—wet and weightless—out of the bathroom.
She clung to me, heartbeat racing against my chest.
The bedroom door closed behind us with a soft thud, muffling the world beyond.
I laid her gently on the bed, silk sheets cool against her skin, making the heat between us flare.
Her eyes searched mine—wild and a little uncertain.
I brushed a wet strand of hair from her face and smiled. "You're perfect."
Viola's breath caught.
Slowly, deliberately, I leaned down, tracing a path of kisses along her jaw, her neck—every touch both a question and an answer.
She tangled her fingers in my damp hair, pulling me closer, hungry for more.
Our bodies moved instinctively, slick skin pressing together, every kiss, every caress turning the air electric.
Time slowed. The world outside ceased.
We were just us—raw, open, consuming.
Her whispered name was a prayer against my lips, and every gasp she gave was a flame I fed.
Hours passed in a blur of touch and heat, every moment a thread weaving us closer.
And when the night finally settled, we lay tangled, breath mingling, hearts pounding in unison.
I held her close and whispered, "This is only the beginning, Viola."
She smiled against my chest, and for the first time in a long time, I believed her heart was ready to fight for us.