Please Come Back, My Love Chapter 26

Elena: POV

He had me pinned against the bathroom door, that deep, passionate kiss barely over, the heat still radiating between us.

Before I could even catch my breath, he swept me up into his arms, and placed me directly on the cold marble countertop.

I shivered involuntarily as the cool air hit my exposed skin. The marble counter was freezing beneath me, sending goosebumps racing across my flesh.

Julian's hands paused at my waist, his gray eyes darkening as he took in my trembling.

"You're freezing," he murmured, his voice dropping to something almost... concerned.

Before I could respond, he was lifting me again—this time differently. His arms slid under my knees and around my back, cradling me against his chest.

My legs automatically wrapped around his waist as he carried me toward the massive tub, now steaming with hot water.

The bathroom smelled of eucalyptus and mint.

For a moment, I let myself imagine this was normal. That we were a real couple, that he was taking care of me because he wanted to, not because...

*Don't,* I told myself harshly. *Don't fucking do this to yourself.*

Julian set me down at the edge of the tub, steadying me with one hand while the other reached to turn off the taps. The water level was perfect, wisps of steam rising into the air.

"Get in," he said softly.

The hot water enveloped me like an embrace, and I couldn't suppress the sigh of relief that escaped my lips. My muscles, tense from the cold and stress, began to unwind slightly.

I heard the rustle of fabric behind me.

My eyes snapped open, and I turned my head just enough to see Julian's reflection in the mirror across from the tub.

He was unbuttoning his shirt. Slowly. Deliberately.

Each button revealed another inch of tanned skin, the hard planes of his chest, the defined lines of his abs. His fingers moved with practiced ease, and I found myself unable to look away, even as heat rushed to my face.

*This is wrong,* I thought, even as my pulse quickened.

The shirt slid off his shoulders, revealing broad muscles that flexed as he moved. Then his hands went to his belt.

The metallic clink made my breath hitch.

I turned away sharply, staring at the white tile wall, my cheeks burning.

"Elena." His voice was closer now. "Look at me."

"I—" My voice came out strangled. "I can't."

"Why not?" There was amusement in his tone now, dark and intimate. "You've seen me naked before."

*Not like this,* I wanted to say. *Not when I'm trying so hard to protect what's left of my heart.*

I heard the soft thud of his pants hitting the floor. Then the water shifted as he stepped into the tub behind me.

My entire body tensed.

His legs bracketed mine, his chest pressed against my back, and his arms came around my waist, pulling me firmly against him.

I could feel every inch of him—the hardness of his muscles, the heat of his skin, the very obvious evidence of his arousal pressing insistently against my lower back.

"Julian—" I started to shift forward, to put some distance between us.

"Don't move." His grip tightened. "Just... stay still."

"But—"

"Elena." His breath was warm against my ear. "Stay. Still."

I froze, my heart hammering against my ribs. This felt dangerous. Too intimate. Like crossing some invisible line we shouldn't cross.

I waited for him to do something, but he didn't.

He just held me. His chin resting on my shoulder, his arms wrapped around my waist, his breathing slow and even against my neck.

Minutes passed. The steam rose around us. The water lapped gently against the sides of the tub.

And Julian Sterling—the man who took what he wanted, when he wanted it—just... held me.

I didn't understand.

My mind raced, trying to make sense of this. Was this some new manipulation tactic? Some way to lower my defenses before he struck?

I shifted slightly, testing. His arms tightened reflexively, but still, he did nothing else.

*What the hell is happening?*

Slowly, carefully, I turned my head to look at him.

His eyes were closed, his jaw tight, his expression... conflicted. Like he was fighting some internal battle I couldn't see.

"Julian?" My voice came out softer than I intended.

His eyes opened, meeting mine. And for a moment—I saw something raw in them. Something vulnerable.

Then it was gone, replaced by that familiar intensity.

His hand came up to cup my face, thumb brushing my cheekbone. "Behave yourself," he murmured, his voice rough. "Stay still. Or I won't be responsible for what happens next."

But even as he said it, his other hand was already moving. Sliding down my stomach with deliberate slowness, tracing the curve of my hip, dipping between my thighs.

*No—not there,* panic flashed through my mind. *My baby... what if he can tell? What if he feels something different?*

I gasped, my head falling back against his shoulder, even as my mind screamed to resist. *This is how he destroys you—inch by inch. And now you're destroying your child too.*

"That's it," he whispered against my ear. "Just feel."

His fingers found my most sensitive spot, circling it with maddening precision. My hips bucked involuntarily, seeking more pressure, more friction—betraying me, as always.

*My body is betraying me,* I thought desperately. *Betraying my baby.*

"Julian, please—" The words came out as a whimper, my body arching despite myself.

"Please what?" His teeth grazed my earlobe, sending sparks down my spine. "Tell me what you want, Elena. Use your words."

"I—" My brain was fogging over, pleasure building in slow, devastating waves that made my thighs clench around his hand. *I should stop this. For the baby. For myself.* "I can't think when you—"

"Good." His fingers pressed harder, moving faster, relentless. "Don't think. Just feel."

His other hand moved to my breast, cupping it possessively, his thumb circling my nipple until it peaked under his touch. He pinched it lightly, and I cried out, my back bowing against him, water splashing wildly.

*They're more sensitive,* I realized with horror. *Because of the pregnancy. He'll notice. He has to notice.*

"You're so fucking responsive," he growled, his voice thick with hunger. "So perfect for me."

*No,* I thought, tears mixing with the steam on my face. *I'm not perfect for you. I'm carrying someone else's baby and letting you touch me like this.*

I was trembling now, my body wound tight as a bowstring. The water around us rippled with each desperate movement, spilling over the sides in chaotic waves.

Pleasure coiled low in my belly, building, building—but not quite there yet.

My breaths came in shallow gasps, my muscles tensing as I chased that elusive peak, only for it to slip away when his rhythm slowed deliberately.

*I'm a monster,* I thought as my body responded despite my guilt. *What kind of mother am I? What kind of woman?*

"Julian—faster," I begged, my voice breaking, frustration mixing with need and self-loathing. *Why is this so hard? Why does my body fight it even as it craves more?*

My hips ground against his hand, seeking the pressure that hovered just out of reach, every near-miss sending fresh tremors through me.

He chuckled darkly against my neck, his fingers teasing now—circling without mercy, building me up only to ease off again. "Not yet, love. I want you desperate. I want you to need it like you need air."