Page 80 of Unclench Me Softly

Because something changed today. Not just in them.

In me.

They touched me with meaning. Looked at me like I was already theirs. And I can feel it, this slow, terrible beautiful undoing, blooming from my thighs to my throat.

I’m still in the robe, still bare underneath, and still marked by five declarations I didn’t ask for but took anyway.

And that’s when I hear it.

A footstep. Soft. Purposeful.

The dome flap rustles.

And then he’s there.

Jonah.

Not smirking. Not gentle. Just watching me like I’ve been lying for days and he’s finally ready to let me confess.

He says nothing at first. Just closes the flap behind him, steps forward, and lets the silence stretch so far it starts to thrum in my chest.

Then, low and measured, he says, “You’ve been running.”

I try to laugh, but it gets caught somewhere in my throat. “From what?” I ask, which is a stupid question, because I already know.

He doesn’t answer. He just steps forward, slow, certain, crossing the floor like the space between us was never meant to exist in the first place. He stops in front of me, looks down, and reaches for the tie of my robe. Not yanking. Just holding it, waiting.

My breath catches. “Jonah.”

“Stop pretending this doesn’t matter.” His voice is dangerous now. Soft. Sharp. Like a silk thread about to snap. “Stop pretending you don’t want to be unraveled.”

And gods, I do. So badly it makes my teeth ache.

But I don’t move. I can’t. Because if I do, I’ll fall at his feet and say please ruin me in a way that feels like healing.

He lets go of the belt and unloops it slow.

Then turns me gently so my back is to him.

The robe slips off my shoulders like it’s been waiting to fall. Waiting to expose me in a way that feels ritualistic and terrifyingly right.

His hands slide up my arms. Then the fabric wraps over my eyes. Tied. Firm. Blinding.

I suck in a breath.

And then his mouth is near my ear. Low. Dark. Steady. “You’re not in control tonight.”

I feel everything.

The heat of his body behind mine, steady and burning like he’s always been there, waiting for this moment.

The way the air shifts with each of his movements, intentional, quiet, like he’s hunting stillness and I’m the kill.

The absence of sight doesn’t just sharpen everything else, it strips me down. Every breath I take feels like a confession, like I’m inhaling surrender and exhaling whatever pitiful scrap of control I have left.

“Lie back,” he says.

I do.

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