Chapter 390

The steam in the bathroom gradually dissipated as Sophia Lowell slowly awoke under the warm water.

She didn’t dare open her eyes.

Ethan Roscente’s slender fingers combed through her hair with an uncharacteristic gentleness. The shampoo lather dissolved into her strands, carrying a faint hint of jasmine.

This was so unlike him.

Sophia held her breath, terrified of revealing she was awake. She knew this man too well—if he caught her pretending to sleep, she’d never hear the end of his teasing.

But the next second, warm lips suddenly brushed her forehead.

"Ah!" She nearly leapt out of the bathtub in shock, only to be firmly restrained by his strong arms.

"Awake?" Ethan’s deep voice held unmistakable amusement. "Miss Lowell’s acting skills could use some work."

Sophia’s eyes flew open, meeting his mocking gaze.

Only then did she realize her hand was clenched around the second button of his shirt, her fingertips white with tension. The obsidian button gleamed darkly under the light, mirroring the turbulent emotions swirling in his eyes.

"I—I was just..." she stammered, but no excuse came to mind.

Ethan leaned closer, his hot breath grazing her ear. "Like this button?" He undid it slowly. "It’s yours."

A water droplet trailed down his jawline, landing on her collarbone. Sophia shivered, instinctively shrinking back, but his hand cradled the back of her head.

"Don’t move," he rasped. "Your wound will get wet."

The towel was suddenly yanked away. Sophia gasped, scrambling for the edge of the tub, but Ethan had already wrapped her in a large towel and lifted her into his arms.

"Ethan Roscente!" Her face burned. "Put me down!"

Ignoring her, he carried her straight to the bedroom. She could feel the heat of his chest, the taut muscles beneath his damp shirt.

He set her gently on the bed. The moment she reached for the covers, his hand closed around her wrist.

"Running away?" He bent down until his nose almost touched hers. "Weren’t you bold just now?"

Sophia finally noticed the obsidian button resting in her palm, its cold hardness pressing painfully into her skin.

Just like the restrained desire in his eyes.