Chapter 176: Did you draw them on yourself?

Words : 1049 Updated : Oct 4th, 2025

Chapter 176: Chapter 176: Did you draw them on yourself? Their faces drew close—not rushed. Just inevitable. The steam curled between them, softening the edges of their silhouettes as the moonlight caught the glimmer of droplets clinging to their skin. Her fingers remained on his chest, slick and warm, sliding slowly over the ink etched into his body. She didn’t move away. Neither did he. Their mouths hovered, barely inches apart. The air between them was hot with rising tension. She could feel his breath—controlled, steady—fanning over her cheek. She could smell the faint mix of minerals and cedar on his skin. He didn’t kiss her. Instead, he angled his head slightly and whispered, voice low and devastatingly soft, "This isn’t the part where you lose focus." Isabella didn’t. Her fingers moved again, slower this time, tracing the tattoo along his chest. It sprawled across his chest, each line bold and deliberate, extending downward in a pattern, disappearing into the deep shadows near his waistline. She followed it—boldly, curiously—until her fingertip reached the edge where skin vanished beneath water. So that’s where it stopped. She was silently relieved that the steam and the milky-blue water shielded her from seeing more—but stars, her mind didn’t need help filling in the blanks. Her voice was casual, almost teasing: "Did you draw them on yourself?" Kian’s eyes sharpened. "No," he said, clipped. "I was born with them." That subtle shift in his tone... colder, guarded. A wall she hadn’t meant to press against. She held his gaze for a second. Then, without missing a beat, she dipped a hand into the clay bowl and passed him the remaining soap, her smile returning like a challenge reborn. "Here. You’d better finish up. I’d hate to get carried away and start polishing your—abs and ambitions." Kian’s mouth twitched. Almost a smile. Almost. He took the soap without breaking eye contact. His fingers brushed hers—deliberately. His smirk, though faint, was unmistakably satisfied. Isabella turned and stepped away, facing the mist and the shallow rocks. She gathered her hair and lifted it, letting the cool night air run down her spine. Her back was bare. Her skin glowed beneath the moonlight, slick from steam and heat. "Don’t look," she called over her shoulder, playful now. "I want to wash up too." Kian didn’t respond immediately. The silence stretched. Then—calm, cold, unapologetic—"If you didn’t want me to look, you should’ve picked a less transparent location." Isabella couldn’t believe this man, he brought her here without her permission and can still speak like this?! She glanced back, mock scandal widening her eyes. "You wouldn’t dare." "I don’t need to," he said flatly, reaching for his own shoulder with the soap. That should’ve ended it. Should’ve cooled the moment. But Isabella grinned slowly. And then—without even thinking twice—she added with a voice far too smug: "Well, If you’re going to peek, my dear Lion King, know this—I’m scrubbing my breasts, and the only thing harder to wash off is the memory of not grabbing your ass when I had the chance." Kian froze. Just for a second. His head turned toward her slowly, like he couldn’t believe she’d said that out loud. His eyes locked onto her face, unreadable—but sharp. Alert. There was a flicker of something hot in those cold eyes, something tightly leashed but definitely alive. Isabella, red-faced but grinning, raised a brow. "What? Don’t act so shocked. You challenged me." He said nothing. But there it was again—that subtle lift of his brow. Barely noticeable, but it was there. Interest. And maybe something darker curling behind it. She started scrubbing her arms with hurried little circles, facing away to hide how red her ears had gone. "Besides," she mumbled under her breath, "it’s not like you didn’t just stand there like a damn sculpture while I poked your abs like a starving woman at a fruit stall." Behind her, the water shifted. Slowly. Kian was moving again, silent, and smooth. And though he said nothing, she could feel his eyes burning against her back. When she risked one more glance over her shoulder, he hadn’t looked away. Soap in hand, cold expression intact—but that smirk she caught before was still faintly ghosting over his lips. "Don’t worry," she said with a wink. "I won’t peek either... unless you really want me to help polish your ambitions." This time, Kian’s chuckle was quiet, dry, and unamused—but it was real. "You’re unbelievable." "And you love it." Another moment passed. The moonlight bathed them in silver. The steam rose. Their backs were fully-turned, but their minds? Still locked in that space between control and surrender. And neither one was quite ready to walk away. As warm water slid over her skin and the scent of minerals filled the air, Isabella finally found herself still. Her heartbeat slowed. The tension in her shoulders ebbed. And in that quiet lull, her mind drifted—straight back to the man she saw this morning. Kian. Not this version, half-naked and silently watching her with those razor-sharp eyes. No. She was thinking about the Kian from earlier. The one whose back looked like it carried kingdoms. The one whose silence felt heavier than words. The one whose face, just for a moment, looked... tired. Exhausted, even. That man had been weighed down—by duty, by expectation, maybe by demons she couldn’t see. And yet now... now he was here. Calm. Composed. Almost amused. So why the sudden shift? Was this the real him? Or just another version he wore like armor? Maybe this—his dry smirks, his watchful gaze, his infuriating restraint—was just how he survived it all. A part of her itched to ask. To press a finger into that façade and say, "What are you hiding under there?" But for once... she didn’t. Because some questions weren’t meant to be asked in moments like this. Some silences were sacred. So instead, she gave him that. A rare peace. Even if it was borrowed, even if it was fleeting. Even if by tomorrow, he’d return to being cold and closed-off again. She knew that was coming. She could already feel it waiting at the edge of this warmth. And still, she let him have this moment. Because maybe, just maybe, she needed it too.

Chapter 176: Did you draw them on yourself?

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