Page 100 of Break Me

We sit together as the last of the daylight fades. He eats like he always does, steady and appreciative. I take a few bites, then slow, my fork hovering while my body decides it’s finished long before I am.

I frown at my plate and try another bite just to prove a point. It sits heavy and unwelcome.

Sam notices right away. “You don’t like it?” he asks.

“I do,” I say. “It’s good.”

He glances down at my plate, then back up at me. “What’s wrong, then? You barely touched it.”

“I’ve been getting full quickly,” I say, keeping my tone light.

His fork slows. “Since when?”

“A little while,” I say. “I’m sure it’s nothing.”

Sam doesn’t answer right away. He takes another bite, chews, swallows. When he looks at me again, his expression is careful, like he’s choosing to let something go instead of saying it. We finish the meal in easy silence. His attention stays on me even when his eyes don’t.

After dinner, he clears the table, stacks the plates, and carries them to the sink. He always seems to know what needs doing before I even think to ask. I lean against the counter and watch him.

I don't think he'll ever realize how much I love watching him like this. Not because he's washing dishes.Because he never lets me carry the weight of a home by myself.

A heaviness settles over me, pulling at my limbs until even standing feels like more effort than it should. I stifle a yawn behind the back of my hand.

Sam glances over at me. "Long day?"

"A little." I smile. "I had breakfast with Dad this morning, then spent the afternoon in the garden. I guess I forgot how much work everything is this time of year."

He hums low and thoughtful, like he's turning the idea over more than worrying about it. "It sounds like you earned a hot bath."

"That actually sounds perfect," I admit, pushing off the counter. "As long as you're joining me."

That finally pulls a smile from him. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

The bathroom fills with steam as the tub runs, the mirror already beginning to fog. I catch my reflection while I’m waiting and press my hand to my stomach without thinking. There’s no pain, just a strange sense of awareness.

Sam steps in behind me, his hands come to my hips, thumbs brushing against my skin. “You’re beautiful,” he murmurs, voice low and appreciative.

I lift my eyes to the mirror again. The fog blurs the edges, but not enough to miss the way we fit together, the way my body leans back into his without hesitation.

Something stirs low in my belly, heat pooling there, answering his touch before my thoughts can catch up. I inhale, letting the sensation spread.

His thumbs press a little more possessively. “Come on,” he murmurs, lips brushing my shoulder as he guides me forward.

The tile is warm beneath my feet as we step closer to the tub, steam curling around us. Sam helps me in first, hands steady at my waist as I lower myself into the water. The heat envelopes me instantly and sinks into my muscles.

I sigh, my head tipping back against the porcelain.

He follows a moment later, settling in behind me, the water rising, skin meeting skin beneath the surface. His legs bracket mine, his chest warm at my back, arms coming around me without hurry. The contrast between the heat of the bath and the solid weight of him makes my breath hitch.

I glance toward the mirror again, now almost completely fogged, our shapes blurred together until there’s no clear edge where I end and he begins. I shift slightly, fitting myself back against him.

His chin rests on my shoulder. “Better?” he murmurs, voice low, vibrating through my back.

I nod, too tired for words at first. My body feels heavy, like it’s finally allowed to stop fighting gravity. His hands slide up my arms, thumbs tracing the insides of my elbows, then down to lace fingers with mine under the water.

The water laps gently against the sides as I lean heavier into him. His cock rests hard against the small of my back, but he makes no move to do anything about it. Instead, one hand leaves mine and drifts to my stomach, palm flat, fingers splayed. He strokes in lazy circles, the kind that make my skin prickle even through the heat.

“You don’t have to do anything,” he says against my ear. “Just let me take care of you tonight.”