SASHA’S POV
I didn’t want to leave him, not now, not after everything we’d been through to finally figure out where we stood with each other.
I’d never felt so certain, so committed to making this work. But despite everything I wanted, I couldn’t ignore the steady, rhythmic beeping of my father’s heart monitor, a constant reminder that he still hadn’t woken up.
As much as my heart ached to go with Sebastian, my father needed me here.
We were sitting on the bed, his hand resting gently on my foot as he carefully painted my toenails with a focus that made me smile.
I’d never seen him like this before-patient, calm, as if he had all the time in the world to do something as simple as paint my nails.
A part of me wanted to apologise for turning down his invitation, but another part reminded me that this was exactly where I needed to be.
“Sebastian…” I began, breaking the comfortable silence, but he cut me off before I could get much further.
“I know,” he said, his voice soft but steady. “You want to be here for your father. You don’t have to explain.”
I blinked, surprised by how easily he accepted it. “You’re… okay with that?”
He looked up at me, his gaze steady. “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want you to come. But I get it, Sasha. Family comes first, especially now. I’d never hold that against you.”
His understanding caught me off guard. Sebastian wasn’t exactly known for his patience, yet here he was, accepting my decision without so much as a trace of bitterness.
I’d expected a fight, or at least some pushback. But instead, he just nodded, that intense gaze of his softened as he went back to finishing my toes.
“Thank you,” I said quietly, not sure how else to express the flood of gratitude I felt at that moment.
He looked up again, and this time a small, playful smile tugged at his lips. “You don’t have to thank me. But,” he continued, caressing the bottle of polish with a smirk, “maybe you can make it up to me by being a good girl for the rest of the week?”
I couldn’t help but laugh, my heart fluttering at the familiar teasing tone. “A ‘good girl,’ huh? And what exactly does that entail?”
“Oh, I think you know,” he murmured, his voice dipping lower, sending a pleasant shiver down my spine.
He reached over, brushing a strand of hair from my face, his fingers lingering against my cheek. “Just… stay close. Let me take care of you until I have to leave.”
The way he looked at me made me feel like I was the only person in the world who mattered. It was a new sensation, one I still wasn’t sure how to handle, but I couldn’t deny how much I wanted it. How much I wanted him.
“Alright,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. “I can do that.”
“Good.” His hand drifted down from my face, tracing along my jaw, his fingers skimming my throat before resting lightly on my shoulder.
The intensity in his eyes made me feel as though he was seeing right through me, every thought, every worry. And somehow, that was okay.
We stayed there in silence for a moment, just looking at each other, until he broke it by brushing his lips over my forehead, a surprisingly tender gesture that made my heart ache in the best way.
I felt safe, cherished, even though he was about to leave on another dangerous trip. He made me feel like, no matter where he went, he’d always come back to me.
“You should probably get to bed soon,” he murmured, breaking the comfortable silence. “It’s late.”
I shook my head. “I’m not tired.”
He raised an eyebrow, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “Not tired, huh?”
“Not even a little,” I replied, matching his playful tone. “Besides, I think you missed a spot on my toenails.”
He chuckled, glancing down at my toes with a grin. “Oh? Where?”
“Right there,” I said, pointing to a perfectly polished nail with a mischievous glint in my eye.
“Brat,” he muttered, but there was no heat in his words.
His hand slid up from my ankle, his touch firm but gentle, grounding me. “Since you’re not tired, then maybe you’d like to join me for a shower?”
His question hung in the air, filling the room with an unexpected tension. My pulse quickened, my heart thundering in my chest as I stared at him, frozen by the suggestion.
We’d been close, physically, sure-but this felt like a new level of intimacy, one I wasn’t entirely sure I was ready for.
My mind raced, thoughts tumbling over one another as I tried to come up with a response, but nothing coherent came out.
Sebastian noticed my hesitation, his gaze softening as he brushed his thumb over my knuckles, grounding me once again.
“You don’t have to,” he said gently, his voice soothing. “I won’t push you into anything you’re not ready for.”
It was that simple, reassuring statement that broke through my nerves. He wasn’t pressuring me, wasn’t making me feel guilty or inadequate.
He was just… there, waiting patiently, giving me the space to make my own choice. And somehow, that made me want him even more.
I took a shaky breath, my heart pounding as I met his gaze. “No… I want to. I just… I’ve never…”
His expression softened, his hand still wrapped around mine. “We can take it slow, Sasha. I don’t want to rush you. This is about us, together. Nothing has to happen until you’re ready.”
I nodded, feeling a mixture of relief and anticipation swirling inside me. Slowly, he rose from the bed, pulling me gently to my feet.
With one last reassuring smile, he led me toward the bathroom, his hand firm and steady as he guided me.
The soft glow of the bathroom lights cast a warm, inviting atmosphere as we stepped inside. My nerves started to fade, replaced by a sense of calm as I watched him turn on the water, adjusting the temperature until steam began to fill the room.
He turned back to me, his gaze filled with patience and a touch of amusement as he held out his hand.
“You still okay?” he asked, his voice soft, barely audible over the sound of the running water.
I nodded, stepping closer, feeling the warmth of the steam begin to envelop us both. He gently reached for the hem of my shirt, his movements slow and deliberate, giving me every opportunity to stop him if I wanted to.
But I didn’t. Instead, I raised my arms, letting him pull the fabric over my head, leaving me feeling vulnerable yet oddly safe in his presence.
His fingers brushed over my shoulders, lingering for a moment before he began unbuttoning his own shirt, his movements measured, almost reverent.
He watched me carefully, as though gauging my reaction, and I felt a surge of confidence in knowing he was just as focused on my comfort as he was on his own desires.
When he finally stepped into the shower, he reached out, pulling me gently under the warm spray.
The water cascaded over us, and for a moment, all I could feel was the comforting heat, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against mine as he pulled me close.
“You’re safe with me,” he whispered, his voice barely audible over the sound of the water. “Always.”
I closed my eyes, letting his words sink in, wrapping around me like a protective cocoon.
We stood there, wrapped in each other, and I knew, deep down, that I’d made the right choice in staying. Because no matter where life took us, this was where I belonged, right here, with him.