Anne gently took his hand, her touch inviting, and began leading him toward their bedroom. The intimacy in her voice made his heart beat faster. Every step with her felt like a descent into a dream he didn't want to wake from.
The bathroom was bathed in a soft amber glow from the flickering candles scattered around the edges of the deep soaking tub. The air was thick with the calming scent of sandalwood, lavender, and something faintly floral. Wisps of steam curled upward. The water shimmered, infused with rose petals and essential oils.
Anne stood beside the tub, her hair pinned loosely at the nape of her neck, a few tendrils curling down her bare shoulder.
Augustine watched her in silence, entranced by the way she moved with purpose. There was no rush, no hurry in her gestures—only calm, sensual grace.
"Let me help you," she said.
