I shift slightly, the movement small but noticeable, and his hold adjusts just enough to keep my arm where he wants it.
“They’re ugly—” I add, quieter now, trying to close it down before it becomes something bigger.
“They’re yours.” The interruption comes without hesitation, his voice steady, leaving no room for the conversation to move in the direction I was trying to take it. His fingers trace the lineagain, more deliberately this time, like he’s committing it to memory. “That makes them mean something.”
My throat tightens, the response immediate and hard to contain. I feel it before I understand it, something sharp and unfamiliar pressing up under my ribs. “You don’t even know where they came from.”
“I don’t need to. I already know enough.” The certainty in it lands heavier than anything else he’s said. His hand shifts slightly, brushing over another mark I forgot was there, his attention moving with the same precision he’s used for everything else. “I know what they are.” He pauses just long enough for it to settle. “And I know you don’t get to diminish them.”
The pressure of his thumb returns to the inside of my wrist, grounding and deliberate, holding me exactly where I am. “They’re part of you. So they’re mine to understand.”
My breath catches, the reaction immediate and impossible to hide.
“And that means they matter.”
Something turns over in my stomach, sharp and disorienting.
I don’t pull away.
I don’t argue.
I stay exactly where he’s put me, letting the moment settle the way he wants it to, even as the weight of it presses deeper than I’m prepared for.
And the worst part is that it doesn’t feel wrong.
It feels like something locking into place.
Something I’m not going to be able to undo.
CHAPTER 30
IVY
That night, he leads me out onto the balcony. I hadn’t noticed the door before, or maybe I had and it just didn’t register.
It slides open and cool night air spills over my skin. The space opens all at once—air, night, silence.
We’re high up. Higher than I expected. The city stretches out below us in soft lights and distant movement, everything far enough away that it feels quiet. Untouchable. Like we’ve stepped out of everything that exists down there.
There’s a glass railing. Nothing obstructing the view. Nothing closing it in.
And in the corner, a built-in hot tub. Steam already curling into the night as if anticipating our arrival.
“You didn’t tell me this was here,” I say softly. “It wasn’t part of the tour.”
“You didn’t ask.” His hand settles at the small of my back. “Get in,” he says.
“I didn’t bring a swimsuit.”
“Who said anything about swimsuits?” His eyes track downmy body, hungry, and my skin reacts instantly. Heat blooms low, sharp and insistent. “You don’t need one for me.”
My clit swells on autopilot at the thought of being in a bubbling hot tub with him—quiet, controlled, already deciding what he’s going to do to me.
I don’t argue. I peel off my clothing, aware of him watching every movement. The night air kisses my skin, cool against the sudden heat rising through me. My nipples tighten, my breath catching as goosebumps scatter across my arms.
I step into the water.
The temperature is perfect, that knife edge between scalding and just right. Of course it is. Soren already knew exactly what I’d need.