Arlene's POV
The intense burning sensation that coursed through me since Warner's bite has settled into a gentle throb as I sink deeper into the steaming bathwater. Warner sits with his back pressed against the porcelain edge, fingers dancing across guitar strings in a melody that seems to echo my heartbeat. My muscles protest in ways they never have before, but there's something deeply satisfying about the soreness.
Being restrained was completely foreign to me. He had bound my wrists to the headboard for what felt like hours, leaving me completely at his mercy. Heat floods my cheeks at the memory. The way he explored every inch of my skin with his mouth and tongue still makes me shiver. Even after scrubbing until my skin turned pink and soaking in lavender-scented bubbles, his scent clings to me like a second skin. There were moments I nearly kicked him because tickling has always been my weakness, but somehow I found release before he even reached my most sensitive places.
