Page 68 of Sins of the Hidden

"Your turn," he rumbled, the two words carrying the weight of a command, a plea, and a promise all at once.

V closed the distance between us, my attention still captivated by that crude tattoo. His large hand tugged insistently at my shirt—the oversized tee I'd thrown on after work, the fabric worn thin from years of washing, a security blanket as much as a garment.

"Take it off." His command ricocheted off the tiled walls, claiming me before his hands even touched my body. His eyesconsumed me, already possessing every inch beneath the fabric. The rushing water drowned out any awkward silence. I inched backward, my hands quivering, stomach hollowing with dread and something dangerously like anticipation.

"I-I-I'll do it." He remained motionless but close, his gaze searing through me, tracking every micromovement. Running would be futile. He would hunt me, capture me—there was no escaping his orbit. Not that I truly wanted to. But this surrender was something I struggled to grant even myself, let alone another soul.

My body betrayed me in more ways than one—not just in this moment of terrifying vulnerability, but every day. The hormones that waged war inside me had reshaped my figure, distributed weight where I couldn't hide it, left me with unpredictable pain and cycles that followed no calendar logic. Tonight, at least, my body had granted me mercy—no cramping, no unexpected bleeding, no flare of the persistent pain that doctors had minimized for years—small mercies in the face of this greater exposure.

Uneven breaths tore from my lungs, the room's humidity becoming oppressive. My fingertips clutched my shirt's hem with white-knuckled intensity. Sweeping damp strands from my face, I battled to harness courage I didn't possess. With one decisive motion, I pulled the shirt overhead. My security blanket gone, I fought the urge to collapse and scrabble for cover. I forced my gaze to remain steady on him, despite the shallow gasps betraying my composure.

If I looked down, I'd run. If I thought too hard, I'd cry. So I stayed in my body like it wasn't mine, hoping he wouldn't see all the places I'd learned to hate.

V's attention dropped from my face to my chest, and I clung to false bravado. The swell of my breasts spilled over the pale pink balconette bra—the pretty one I'd worn today by chance,not expecting anyone would see it. His obsidian gaze locked on my abundant curves as I maintained my chin's defiant angle, my breathing gradually steadying despite the thundering of my heart.

Mirroring his earlier actions, I hooked my thumbs into the waistband of both leggings and underwear. One humiliation was enough—both would go together. I ducked my head, silently mouthing profanities as I bent, managing to remove them without toppling over and compounding my embarrassment.

I kept my eyes down, focusing on the task at hand rather than the weight of his gaze. My hands trembled as I removed the last of my clothing, hyper-aware of every movement, every inch of skin being exposed. The vulnerability was overwhelming, but there was no going back now. I had invited this—invited him—and some part of me needed to see it through to whatever end awaited.

Rising with manufactured confidence, I confronted the final barrier between us. My fingers fumbled behind me, clawing uselessly at the clasp. Anxiety rendered my hands useless, trembling too violently to manage the hooks. V closed in completely, our bodies separated by mere molecules. His massive frame eclipsed me as he reached around, midnight hair cascading over my shoulder, igniting a constellation of goosebumps across my skin. Deft fingers unhooked all three clasps while I held my breath captive. He withdrew slightly, those same fingers dancing across my shoulder as he caught the straps, easing the bra away as he retreated.

Instinctively, my arms crossed over my exposed torso. Warm, calloused hands captured my wrists before I could shield myself. My legs nearly buckled beneath me, forcing me to brace one hand against the counter for support. My knees threatened to give way entirely, my body betraying the depth of my terror.Dread manifested as a cold weight in my gut, radiating outward until even my fingertips felt numb.

His fingers traced a scar above my heart before following the lines of my body. His weathered past met my sheltered existence in stark contrast. I shouldn't have wanted this connection between such different worlds. Shouldn't have craved the meeting of his hardened exterior against my softness. And yet, my breath hitched as his knuckles brushed the barest whisper of a touch against my ribs, as though memorizing every curve and hollow.

As the last fabric fell away, a strange hollowness opened in my chest—not shame but a terrible, acute awareness that no one had ever truly seen me before. Not like this. Not with such unrelenting focus that missed nothing and forgave everything. The weight of his gaze collapsed something vital inside me, and I realized with startling clarity: I'd spent my entire life being looked at, but never truly seen.

"S-Stop staring." The weight of his gaze felt undeserved; the hunger radiating from him couldn't possibly be meant for me. For my fuller figure, for the stretch marks that mapped my hips and thighs, for all the imperfections I'd spent years trying to hide.

"I like looking at pretty things." My throat constricted, pressure building behind my eyes as his words penetrated my defenses, his voice vibrating through me like a physical touch. His muffled words carried a raspy quality that sent electricity coursing down my spine. Tears threatened as his declaration sank in—he found me beautiful, standing naked and vulnerable.

His grip released my arms, and my body mourned the absence immediately. The sanctuary of his restraining touch abandoned me. He turned away, reaching for the faucet and shutting off the flow. His voice, low and smoke-rough, drifted toward me.

"I can't tell if the water will burn." Glancing back over his shoulder, ebony hair cascaded down his scarred back. He reached for my hand, his touch sparking electricity where our skin connected. Guiding me forward as tears still threatened to spill, V lowered my hand with exquisite care into the bath. His fathomless gaze studied me for any reaction, as though the water might somehow harm me.

"Good?" His eyes darted across my face, watching for any sign of discomfort.

I caught my lower lip between my teeth and nodded, the threatened sob now clawing at my throat.

He released my hand and stood, stepping into the tub. Water sloshed over the sides, but I couldn't summon concern. He folded his knees up, dark eyes beckoning as he extended his hand toward me. Swallowing became an Olympic feat as countless emotions crashed through me. I lifted one leg, toes breaking the water's surface. Relief flooded through me at the perfect temperature. I sank into the warmth, welcoming both the heat of the water and the man waiting behind me.

The knot in my throat remained, burning. This experience was uncharted territory. V appeared unfazed, but he had nothing to hide with his sculpted perfection. Standing exposed before him was one challenge; sitting would reveal what I considered my greatest flaw. The way my stomach folded when seated normally hid beneath oversized shirts. Now, there was nowhere to hide—he would see everything from his vantage point. The water's initial comfort faded, that first sensation of relief dissolving into nothing.

The white porcelain of the claw-foot tub gleamed in stark contrast to V's dark form within it. The bathroom itself was small but elegant—pale blue tiles lining the walls, a vintage mirror hanging above an antique sink. The bathroom counter told my medical story in amber bottles and specializedproducts—prescriptions for regulating hormones, the expensive facial serum that fought my persistent acne, supplements that promised to ease my symptoms. I hadn't thought to hide them before inviting him in. V's gaze had briefly cataloged these intimate artifacts of my condition before dismissing them as unimportant. These details that normally comforted me now seemed to spotlight my vulnerability, reflecting light onto my exposed form from every angle.

His large body dominated the space, making the tub seem smaller than it was. With each shift of his powerful frame, water lapped against the porcelain, against my skin, a constant reminder of his overwhelming physical presence. My own body felt diminished yet hypervisible in his proximity.

Unexpected warmth cascaded down my spine as he cupped water and let it flow across my back. Goosebumps erupted along unfamiliar paths. Behind me came the sound of movement, followed by a shampoo bottle's plaintive wheeze as it surrendered its last contents. Anxiety coiled within me, my fingers clutching the tub's edges, unable to surrender completely to the moment.

Air snagged in my throat as V's fingers combed through my dampened hair. The tightness in my throat no longer threatened tears but a contented sigh at his ministrations. His fingers worked magic against my scalp, twisting strands between them, the scent of lavender shampoo rising in the steam, mingling with the copper tang that always seemed to linger around him. His knuckles grazed the naked expanse of my back, sending a current along my spine.

Time slowed to a gentle, hypnotic rhythm. Water trickled, droplets pattered, his breathing deepened. His powerful hands worked methodically. Each stroke against my scalp sent waves of pleasure radiating through me, melting away my tension. Had anyone else ever experienced this controlled side of him? Thethought that I might be the only one to experience this side of him made my heart swell painfully in my chest, like a bird beating against the confines of its cage.

I noticed my grip on the tub's edge loosening, finally allowing the tension in my legs to dissolve. More heated water followed as V guided the shampoo from my hair with methodical care, ensuring no suds remained to irritate my skin later. His thoroughness spoke of a devotion I'd never expected, each movement deliberate and reverent.

"Lean back." His words startled me—not their meaning but his voice slicing through our cocoon of silence. The command traveled through me like a physical current, settling low in my belly. A peculiar serenity washed over me, a foreign sense of safety. These small acts of care affected me deeply. V had gradually changed my life in ways I couldn't have anticipated. Minutes ago, nausea had gripped me at the thought of nudity before him. Now? I yearned to dissolve into his embrace.

Somewhere deep inside, the cautious part of me marveled at how much had changed. I'd have been horrified at the thought of such intimacy with him. Now, I was the one who had invited him in. My old hesitations seemed like distant memories as his presence filled my senses, his name echoing with each beat of my heart, a rhythm I was beginning to trust.

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