Sweet Hatred-Chapter 453: Warmth

ARIA

The afternoon light filtered through the windows, softer now as the storm continued its relentless assault on the city.

We’d spent hours looking at houses, talking about the future, planning a life that still felt surreal in its possibility.

But now my body was reminding me of everything it had been through.

The tension. The panic attack. The lack of proper rest.

I shifted on the couch and winced as my lower back protested.

"What’s wrong?" Kael asked immediately, his attention snapping to me.

"Nothing. Just sore."

"Where?"

"Everywhere, honestly. My back. My shoulders. Everything feels tight."

He was already standing, moving toward the bedroom. "Come here."

"Kael, I’m fine—"

"Come here, Aria."

There was no arguing with that tone.

I followed him into the bedroom, where he was already pulling back the covers and grabbing something from the bathroom.

Massage oil.

Of course the suite would have massage oil.

"Lie down," he said. "On your stomach."

"You don’t have to—"

"I know I don’t have to. I want to." He gestured to the bed. "Now lie down before I make you."

I couldn’t help but smile as I climbed onto the bed, settling on my stomach with my face turned to the side.

Kael stripped off his shirt... because of course he did... and climbed onto the bed, straddling my hips carefully so his weight wasn’t pressing down on me.

I heard the cap of the oil bottle open, then the sound of him warming it between his palms.

"Tell me if anything hurts," he said.

Then his hands were on my shoulders.

Warm. Strong. Competent.

He worked his thumbs into the knots at the base of my neck, and I couldn’t stop the small sound of relief that escaped.

"Good?" he asked.

"So good," I mumbled into the pillow.

He continued working, his hands moving methodically across my shoulders, down my spine, kneading out tension I hadn’t even realized I was carrying.

It was actually therapeutic. Genuinely helpful.

His hands were careful but firm, finding every tight spot and working it loose with patient pressure.

I felt myself relaxing, my body melting into the mattress.

"You’re really good at this," I murmured.

"Ivan taught me. Said it was important to know how to take care of people."

My chest squeezed at the mention of his friend. At the quiet vulnerability in his voice.

His hands moved lower, to my lower back, and I made another sound... this one less about relief and more about pleasure.

"Does this hurt?" he asked, his voice dropping slightly.

"No," I breathed. "Don’t stop."

His hands slid to my hips, kneading the muscles there, and my breathing changed.

Deepened.

His touch was still careful, still therapeutic.

But something had shifted.

His hands moved to my thighs, working the tension there, and the pressure became less clinical. More deliberate.

More sensual.

"Turn over," he said, his voice rougher now.

I obeyed, rolling onto my back.

His eyes were darker when they met mine. Heated.

He started with my legs, his oiled hands sliding up my calves, my thighs, kneading gently.

Then my stomach... so careful there, reverent almost, his palm spreading over where our child was growing.

Then my arms, one at a time, his fingers working the tension from my biceps, my forearms, even my hands.

All while maintaining eye contact.

The intimacy of it... of him touching me like this, worshipping my body with such focused attention... was almost overwhelming.

I could see him getting aroused. Could see the evidence of it straining against his sweatpants.

And God, I wanted him.

His hands slid back up my thighs, slower this time, and I couldn’t stop myself.

I reached up and pulled him down to me, crashing my lips against his.

He groaned into my mouth, his body covering mine, and whatever restraint we’d both been holding onto shattered completely.

....

We were both slippery. Completely covered in oil.

And laughing.

"We’re a mess," I said, trying to wipe oil off my arm and only succeeding in spreading it around.

"Completely," Kael agreed, looking down at himself. "We need a shower."

"Together?"

His grin was wicked. "Obviously."

The shower was supposed to be practical. A way to clean off the oil.

It turned into something else entirely.

His hands on me, water streaming over us both, the slick slide of skin on skin.

By the time we actually managed to get clean, we were both breathless and satisfied and completely exhausted.

I leaned against the tile wall, boneless, while Kael washed my hair with careful hands.

"I’m never letting you be sore without helping," he murmured.

I laughed softly. "Is that a threat or a promise?"

He pressed a kiss to my shoulder. "Both."

KAEL

Evening had settled in like a comfortable blanket.

The storm was still going... relentless in its assault on the city... but inside the suite, we were warm and safe and content.

Aria had found a book somewhere. Tucked away on a shelf in the living area. Some collection of poetry I’d never bothered to look at.

She held it up, wrapped in one of the plush robes the hotel provided, her hair still damp from our shower.

"Read to me?" she asked.

I raised an eyebrow. "You want me to read poetry?"

"Please?"

The way she said it... soft and hopeful... made it impossible to refuse.

"Alright," I said, taking the book from her hands. "Come here."

She settled onto the couch beside me, curling into my side, her head resting on my chest.

I opened the book randomly, finding something by Pablo Neruda.

"I want to do with you what spring does with the cherry trees..."

My voice was low as I read, the words flowing easily despite their romantic nature.

Aria’s breathing deepened, relaxing against me.

I continued reading, feeling her weight settle more fully, her hand coming to rest on my stomach.

"I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where..."

She shifted in my lap slightly, and I paused.

"Keep going," she murmured.

But then I felt her lips on my neck.

Soft. Deliberate.

I tried to keep reading, but my voice was getting rougher.

"I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride..."

Her hand slid lower, tracing patterns on my abdomen.

The book was becoming harder to focus on.

"So I love you because I know no other way..."

She kissed my jaw. My throat. Her teeth scraped gently against my pulse point.

I set the book aside.

"I thought you wanted me to read," I said, my voice strained.

"I changed my mind."

She shifted fully now, straddling me properly, and I groaned at the feel of her weight settling over me.

We were both still in robes. Easy access.

Perfect access.

She kissed me properly now, deep and consuming, and I gripped her hips, pulling her closer.

The robes fell open as we moved together, grinding slowly in a way that felt intimate and intense and absolutely perfect.

She took control, her hands braced on my shoulders, riding me slowly while I watched her face.

Beautiful. Flushed. Mine.

When we both came apart, it was together, her name on my lips and mine on hers.

---

Afterward, we stayed tangled on the chair, neither of us wanting to move.

"Should I keep reading?" I asked, my voice still rough.

She laughed, the sound breathless and satisfied. "I don’t think I was listening."

"I noticed."

She tilted her head up to kiss me softly. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For reading to me. For this. For everything."

I pulled her closer, burying my face in her hair.

"Always," I murmured.

And I meant it.

Whatever she needed. Whatever she wanted. However I could give it to her.

Always.

We eventually made it back to bed, exhausted and satisfied and completely content.

The storm raged on outside, but wrapped in each other’s arms, we barely noticed.

Tomorrow was her birthday.

Tomorrow we’d tour houses and celebrate and step back into the real world.

But tonight, we had this.

Just us. Just this moment.

Safe and warm and together.

And that was more than enough.