Page 66 of Sins of the Hidden

"Does it hurt?" he asked, his voice rougher than before.

"A little," I admitted.

Something flickered across his face—curiosity, fascination, maybe even envy. His eyes remained fixed on the wound, watching as another drop welled and began to trail down my finger. Before it could fall, his thumb finally pressed against my skin, stopping its descent. The pressure didn't hurt, but it shot a line of fire up my arm.

"You feel everything," he said, his voice barely audible.

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. His eyes lifted from my finger to meet mine, and what I saw there made my breath catch. Something in his eyes made me shiver, something dark and wanting that I couldn't name.

V's jaw tightened as he looked at my finger.

"We're done for today," he stated, his tone leaving no room for argument.

"L-Lets go home." There I went again—calling my apartment our home.

He grabbed his long-sleeved shirt and a chunk of the dismantled countertop, not bothering to put the shirt on. He'd cleared out more than I expected today. I barely did anything—he wouldn't let me help.

The ride back to my apartment was silent, filled with an unfamiliar tension. My hand still buzzed where he'd grabbed me, and I couldn't stop thinking about his reaction to my injury—both fascinating and unsettling.

Back at the apartment, I could feel the grime and sweat from the day clinging to my skin. V followed me inside, in just his tight tank top, dust and sweat making tracks down the sculpted planes of his torso.

"I need a bath," I said, then glanced at his dirt-streaked chest. Words stuck in my throat as I tried to figure out how to ask without sounding ridiculous. "You're...um, you're pretty filthy too."

V looked down at himself, seemingly noticing the grime for the first time.

"There are places you probably can't reach properly," I blurted out, my heart racing. I forced myself to meet his eyes. "On your back."

God, that sounded stupid even to my ears. But V just stared at me, his expression unreadable.

"I could help," I added, my voice barely above a whisper. "In the bath. We could... I mean... together. I-If you wanted?" If he said no, I wasn't sure I'd survive the humiliation. My face was burning now, but I forced myself to hold his gaze. Why couldn't I just say what I really wanted?

V took a step closer. "Together?"

I couldn't speak. My throat had closed up completely. All I could manage was a quick, jerky nod.

V's calloused fingers closed around my wrist. His hold seared through me like a brand. One moment I was standing there, the next I was being pulled forward, my feet barely grazing the floor as he marched us both toward the bathroom. My heartbeat thundered in my throat. The apartment blurred around me. Locked fingers. Warm skin like it was heated by a furnace. His bare arm skimming mine with a static hum. No escape, no time to think.

My body reacted before my mind could catch up—breath stuttering, pulse pounding, stomach knotting with raw nerves as the bathroom door clicked shut behind us.

The door clicked shut behind us. My pulse spiked. I'd invited him to bathe with me—and now we were here. Just us. Steam curled in the air, softening the pale blue tiles and fogging the mirror. The claw-foot tub filled steadily. And the prescription bottles on the counter seemed to stare back at me, silent witnesses to what was about to happen.

He grabbed my wrists and pulled me deeper into the bathroom, blocking my path to the door.

"I don't think I can do this," I whispered, the panic rising so fast it made my voice thin. The thought of being naked in front of him turned my limbs to lead.

I should have been terrified. I should have run or screamed. Yet that fear had always been addictive. Part of me craved the way his presence filled the room. I remembered that first night at Hellbound, when his dark eyes found mine across the bar.

"I've seen everything," he said as he moved closer. His words were sharp and measured. Then his tone softened: "Made you come."

"T-That's different!" My voice quivered. He stepped closer, forcing me to look up at his obsidian stare. His heat and scent—smoke with a metallic tang—made my knees weak.

"How?" Genuine curiosity was rare from him.

I closed my eyes, shame burning beneath my skin. "Y-You walked in on me. I didn't know you were there." When I opened my eyes, his gaze cut through my excuses.

"And?" That single word made any response impossible. The truth was clear—I had surrendered to his touch, let hunger overcome my insecurities.

V stepped back. His fingers moved toward his waistband. My throat went dry. I hadn't considered that his joining me meant seeing all of him.

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