Chapter 16

Kimble

“Oh yes!” I responded instantly, my cheeks flushing. What was it with him and me—always asking if I wanted a bath?

I glanced at him coyly. With his unshaven, rugged appearance, he looked like a wild, untamed wolf—dangerous yet irresistibly beautiful. Heat pooled low in my stomach, and I crossed my legs, trying to rein in the sudden rush of desire. His gaze sharpened, curious, head tilting as though assessing me, like a predator sizing up its prey. “Do you need my help?” His voice, a low growl, sent shivers down my spine.

“No! What? No!” I laughed nervously, the sound high and unnatural. “Why would I need your help?” I bolted from the table without having even touched my food, practically galloping across the vast room toward the bathroom—surely to put some space between us, not because I was feeling lusty. Just as I was about to shut the door, he slid his foot between it and the frame, wedging it open.

“I need to brush my teeth,” he stated, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

“You can do that after I’ve taken my bath. And maybe shave?” I added, regretting the words immediately as another wave of embarrassment heated my face. “Or maybe not.”

“Just pull the shower curtain across if you don’t like me watching. Remember, my room, my house, my rules.”

Arrogant. Shameless. I clenched my fists in frustration and climbed in the tub, yanking the curtain with a dramatic flourish. I didn’t want to prolong this any more than needed, so turned on the shower, rather than taking a proper bath.

Once under the cascade of hot water, I sighed, allowing the warmth to wash away the tension in my muscles and, for a fleeting moment, all my chaotic thoughts. Memories of how I’d been about to escape returned. Brute, Madam Nella, and everyone who humiliated me.

It was as if the water rinsed off not just the grime, but the weight of everything I carried—everything I didn’t want to remember. I stood there, embracing the stillness, hugging myself, letting my mind drift into a quiet nothingness. Tears I hadn’t planned on surfaced, mingling with the water as I tipped my head back, letting them disappear.

When I finally stepped out, raw and cleansed, scrubbing away more than just the surface, he was still there—standing with a fresh towel in his hands. Shocked, I instinctively covered myself with my arms. “What the hell?”

He simply handed me the towel, his gaze not drifting lower than my face. “Dry yourself before you catch a cold.”

I couldn’t think of a snappy retort, so I took the towel and quickly wrapped it around me. He passed me another smaller one for my hair, and as our fingers brushed, an electric jolt zipped through me, igniting every nerve.

“Thanks,” I muttered, hastily moving past him. The smell of food hit me, and my eyes found a freshly laid-out meal in the corner.

“Since you abandoned your breakfast without touching it, I took the liberty of ordering lunch,” he said casually, but there was something different in his tone, a side of Talon I didn’t recognize. He was… caring? That both soothed and unsettled me.

Pushing those thoughts away, I rummaged through the cupboard, pulling out one of his shirts and a pair of boxers. Turning to face him, I raised an eyebrow. “I need to change.”

“Then change,” he replied, indifferent.

“Turn around or go to the bathroom!” I hissed.

Leaning casually in the doorway, arms crossed, he smirked. “I said I wouldn’t touch you, but did I ever promise I wouldn’t look?”

My mouth dropped open, heat creeping up my neck. “Close your mouth, Kimble,” he added with a teasing smirk. “You might swallow a midge.”

Frustrated, I narrowed my eyes. If he wanted to play, I could play too. Slowly, I turned my back to him and let the towel drop to the floor. His sharp inhale was all I needed to hear.

Good.

I bent slightly as I slipped into his boxers, drawing out each motion, hearing his breath hitch, followed by a low growl.

Good.

Sliding into his shirt, I let it fall around my thighs, then turned, making sure my nipples, now pebbled from the cool air, pressed against the fabric.

His gaze darkened as it drifted to my chest, his towel tenting, betraying his lack of self-control.

Excellent.

“I’m hungry,” I declared nonchalantly, striding over to the table. “You can take a bath and join me if you’d like.” I expected a retort, but, to my surprise, he simply turned and closed the bathroom door.

I was halfway through my roasted chicken when the door opened, and there he stood, a towel wrapped snugly around his hips, hanging low enough to reveal the sharp V of his abs. Every line of him was designed to tempt. His muscles rippled as he moved toward me, each step exuding predatory grace, the scent of soap and apples lingering in the air. His damp hair fell in disarray over his forehead, and his amber eyes gleamed with a dangerous charm.

My throat went dry, every cell in my body screaming to close the distance between us. Talon wasn’t just a man—he was the embodiment of seduction.

He leaned down, stealing a piece of chicken from my plate, breaking the spell. “Did you get your fill?” he asked, biting into the meat with a smirk.

Damn him. I looked away, trying to suppress the ache gnawing at my insides.

We ate in silence, but his eyes never left me, his every movement flexing those ridiculous muscles, sending my heart into overdrive.

“I need more clothes,” I said abruptly. “If you’d let me, I could go to my room and get some.”

“You look good in my boxers,” he replied, voice low and thick with meaning.

Bastard.

After the meal, mental exhaustion hit, and I found myself crawling toward the bed, though it was only lunchtime.

“I’ll leave you to rest,” he said. “Don’t try to run. This time, my wolves are all around the manor.”

“I won’t,” I replied with a roll of my eyes, sinking into the soft comfort of the bed.