The moment the bathroom door clicked shut behind him, Noah felt as if he'd been sealed into another world.
The space was large, bathed in warm, soft light. Steam floated lazily in the air. The counter was one seamless piece of white stone, a neat stack of fresh towels placed beside a folded gray bathrobe whose fine weave looked impossibly soft.
He slipped off his shoes. The heated tiles were warm beneath his feet, yet a faint chill still lingered in his toes.
He stood in front of the mirror for a long moment before he remembered to breathe.
The reflection staring back at him had flushed cheeks and a restless gaze—like a child caught doing something wrong.
He bit down lightly, then began undressing, slowly.
First the jacket, tossed aside. Then the hoodie. The T-shirt. When he was down to his last layer, he still couldn't bring himself to look at the mirror.
After a brief hesitation, he pulled that off too and dropped it into the laundry basket, head ducked as he stepped into the tub.
The water was perfect—warm and deep, with a frothy layer of white bubbles drifting on the surface like weightless mist.
The moment he sank in, it was as if something soft and yielding had swallowed him whole.
Heat wrapped around his skin. Noah closed his eyes. His throat moved with a swallow, his chest still unsteady with breath.
He'd never taken a bath this indulgent in his life.
In the cramped, low-pressure shower of his old rental, bathing had felt like a battle fought in haste.
Yet here, in this quiet, perfect comfort, he couldn't relax.
If anything, he was tenser.
The more luxurious it felt, the more it seemed like a trap.
He knew all of this hadn't been "prepared for him," and yet he had walked straight in.
The scent rising from the bubbles was a faint pine—something that reminded him of Asher. He let his fingers drift beneath the surface, stirring the foam, his mind in the same unsteady state as the rippling water.
His face was lost in the rising steam, his breath catching—
And then—
A soft click. The door opened.
Noah's eyes snapped open.
The mirror had fogged over, blurring the reflection, but he could still make out the tall, broad shadow that entered.
Asher.
That bone-deep pressure he carried—something that pinned you in place without a word—filled the space instantly.
Noah straightened, the water shifting around him, foam dipping low enough to bare the line of his collarbone and shoulder.
Asher didn't approach at once. He simply stood near the door, slowly rolling up his sleeves, then unfastening the buttons of his shirt—one by one.
The deliberate pace made Noah's mind go blank for a beat.
When the last button slipped free, Asher shrugged off the shirt and set it on the counter. His frame was perfectly proportioned, every line deliberate.
He didn't speak. But the act itself was a declaration.
Noah's heartbeat kicked hard. Heat rushed to his ears.
Asher stepped closer, kneeling beside the tub, hands braced on the rim as he looked down at him.
"Is the temperature all right?" His voice was low, almost gentle.
Noah bit down on his lip and nodded.
Asher leaned in, one knee propped against the tub, his torso angled forward. Bare shoulders, defined muscle, and the faint sheen of warmth filled Noah's vision, carrying that subtle pine scent.
Noah instinctively edged back.
"Don't." The word was a murmur against his ear, warm breath grazing the skin there like the brush of a feather.
"Come closer."
Noah's lashes trembled. His fingers tightened on the edge of the tub, then loosened again.
Asher lowered himself further, bracing both arms on either side of Noah, caging him in.
Ripples spread across the surface, the foam swaying as if echoing the tremor in Noah's body.
"Don't be afraid," Asher said, the deep rumble of his voice somewhere between coaxing and commanding. "I just want to look at you."
Noah's eyes stung; he turned his head away, unable to meet his gaze.
A moment later, Asher's fingers traced the edge of his collarbone, sliding over his shoulder, following the faint line of bubbles downward.
Noah's breath caught. Heat bloomed along his skin.
"You're beautiful, Noah."
It wasn't flirtation. It was a simple statement of fact, delivered with unnerving calm.
Noah felt like he might break.
Every nerve was strung tight. His ears burned, and even his calves had started to tremble.
"Are you feeling warm?" Asher asked.
Noah shook his head quickly.
A soft laugh. He lifted a damp strand of Noah's hair, curling it between his fingers.
"Liar. You're warm everywhere."
Noah's head dipped lower, his breathing roughening, his body threatening to melt into the water.
Asher reached for a towel, dipped it into the foam, and began to wipe him down—slow strokes starting from his chest.
Each pass was light, tracing over the most reactive places with precision.
It wasn't washing. It was outlining him, as if drawing his shape from memory.
Noah bit the inside of his cheek, heat flooding his face, his fingertips curling tight.
"You're too quiet," Asher murmured against his ear. "If you stay like this, I'll think you're waiting for me to do more."
Noah froze, voice rough: "I… I'm not—"
"Mm?" Asher's soft laugh cut in, sharp as a blade.
A large hand slid to the back of his neck, thumb pressing against that sensitive spot just behind his ear.
Noah jolted, a shiver running through him.
"Your body doesn't lie, Noah," Asher whispered. "You want it—you just don't dare admit it."
Noah's eyes went wide, panic and something else flickering there.
He didn't answer. Couldn't.
It wasn't that he didn't know what he was feeling—more that he had no name for it.
Was it shame? Thrill? Or the bone-deep surrender of being utterly seen?
He couldn't tell.
"Relax," Asher's tone was equal parts soothing and unyielding. "No one will hurt you.
Unless you say 'stop.' Then I will."
Noah drew in a shaky breath, eyes falling shut.
He didn't say "stop."
—
A sudden ding from outside. Asher's phone.
He withdrew his hand, rising to his feet—unhurried, unruffled, without a trace of lust's disarray.
He set the towel aside, calm as ever.
Noah stared at his back, dazed, until he reached the door.
"Finish your bath," Asher said lightly. "I'll be outside."
The door closed behind him.
Only then did Noah realize his whole body was flushed, fingers white from clutching the rim of the tub.
He sank lower into the water, submerging his face until only his nose remained above the surface, as if trying to drown the memory of the last few minutes.
But how could he?
The contract was signed.
He'd been touched.
There was no way back.
Noah's hand trailed slowly to his collarbone—the same spot where Asher's fingers had pressed, had lingered.
The skin remembered. Every inch of it.
He stood at last, slipping the robe over his shoulders.
In the mirror, his hair was damp, his face flushed to the point of glowing, his eyes glassy and unsteady.
He knew exactly what this meant.
He had stepped into the next stage.
And outside—Asher was waiting.
For him to deliver.