CHAPTER 371: CHAPTER 371 CHERISHING HER

He guided her gently toward the bathtub, his hand resting at the small of her back, unhurriedly, as if there was nowhere in the world he needed to be except here, with her. The water shone softly under the golden lights, steam rising in delicate waves that curled around her like warm breath. The moment Bella lowered herself into the tub, the heat wrapped around her body, seeping into her skin, loosening the stiffness in her shoulders and the hidden knots in her spine. She exhaled slowly, her lashes fluttering shut for a moment, feeling the day, the doubts, the noise of everything else dissolve into the hush of water and scented air.

When she opened her eyes again, Leo was beside her, his sleeves rolled up, his fingers scattered with droplets as he sprinkled rose petals into the bath. They touched the surface one by one and spread outward in lazy circles, floating like soft fragments of sunset on golden water. The sweet floral scent drifted up, mixing with the faint spice of sandalwood and the subtle warmth of his cologne. Bella watched him without meaning to, her heart tightening in a way that made her chest feel strangely full.

"You’re going to... help me with the bath?" she asked, the words slipping out before she could cantrol them. Her eyes were round and uncertain, her cheeks tinted with nervous heat that had nothing to do with the water.

Leo’s lips curved, a quiet, knowing smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Not exactly, Bunny. Well, sort of," he replied, his voice low and smooth, like warm honey poured into the quiet room. "You trust me, right?"

She swallowed and nodded, her fingers curling under the surface of the water. She didn’t know when it had happened, or how, but the idea of saying no to him felt almost impossible. Her gaze stayed fixed on his, drawn and held.

He moved away then, crossing the room with composed, unhurried steps. She heard the soft click of a switch, and in the next breath the atmosphere shifted. The lights dimmed to a softer gold, shadows deepening in the corners, while a gentle mist began to unfurl from hidden vents, spreading slowly until it turned the room into a hazy cocoon. The quiet sound of the system blended with the sound of water, and the air thickened with layered fragrance—roses, sandalwood, and something deeper and warmer that made her pulse flutter against her throat.

"Leo?" Bella whispered, turning her head slightly, but the mist had grown so dense that she could see only the glow on the surface of the bath, her own blurred outline, the shape of her knees beneath the water. Everything else faded into soft gold and shadow.

And then she felt him.

The muted sound of his footsteps drew closer behind her, and with it came his warmth, a familiar, steady presence that made her nerves prickle with awareness. It was as if the air around her tightened, as if every inch of her skin woke up, acutely conscious that he was near.

"Do you mind me touching you?" he asked, his voice right behind her now, deep and unhurried, the words brushing along her spine with the same effect as a fingertip.

Bella’s breath caught. For one suspended second she forgot how to inhale. Her fingers flexed beneath the water. She shook her head, but no sound came out.

"I can’t hear you, Bunny." His tone was still calm, but the deep authority in it sent another tremor through her. "Use words."

Her throat worked, her voice small when it finally emerged. "Y-yes," she whispered.

"Good girl," he murmured, the praise so gentle and intimate that it made her heart thump harder, each beat echoing in her ears.

A large hand settled on her shoulder. His touch was firm yet careful, his palm spreading heat through her skin as though he could smooth away every trace of cold, every doubt. Bella’s chest rose with a slow, unsteady breath. She could feel the strength in his fingers, the control in the way he held himself back, every motion measured so he would not startle her. The restraint in him made her feel even more vulnerable, and somehow, cherished.

"In Rose City," Leo said softly, his voice threading through the sound of trickling water, "there’s a custom. A husband must give his wife her first bath without seeing her body. It’s meant to honor her, to show that his first duty is care, not claim. They believe a woman’s body is sacred, like that of a goddess."

Bella’s lashes lowered, her heart tightening as his words wrapped around her. Sacred. Goddess. Wife. Each term brushed past her like a caress, reverent and dangerously close to something unbearable. Her breath trembled, the heat of the water suddenly nothing compared to the warmth blooming beneath her skin.

Her bathrobe clung to her now, heavy and wet, tracing every curve too closely. Her fingers pinched the soaked fabric near her collarbone. "So... I have to take off my robe too?" she asked, the question so soft and shy that he felt it more than heard it.

He stilled. For a heartbeat, he forgot to breathe. The way she said it—uncertain, trusting, almost innocent—sent a slow rush of heat through his veins.

"It’s better," he answered at last, his voice low, careful, steady even as something inside him strained. "You’ll be more comfortable."

He turned away from her, his shoulders squared, his gaze fixed stubbornly on the wall. She heard the faint rustle of fabric as she moved, the soft slip of the robe leaving her skin. The mist thickened, kind as a veil, hiding her from sight even as the awareness of her presence wrapped tighter around him. He didn’t look. He would not. But he felt everything—the fragile sound of her breath, the way the water shifted as she sank deeper, the way the room seemed to hold its own inhaled silence.

When his hand returned to her, resting once more on her shoulder, Bella’s body reacted before her mind caught up. Her muscles loosened, her spine softened, and her skin seemed to lean into his touch. His hand was warm and sure, guiding without forcing, soothing without taking. The ripples moved in slow circles around her, touching her wrists, her knees, her ankles, as if echoing the rhythm he set.

His other hand appeared with a smooth sandalwood soap, and she watched through the mist as he rubbed it between his palms, building a soft lather. When he touched her again, it was with reverence. His thumb drew a gentle line along the slope of her shoulder, gliding up the side of her neck where her pulse fluttered beneath his touch. He moved to her cheek, his fingers brushing in delicate, slow circles, cleaning away droplets, tracing the shape of her face like he was memorizing it through touch alone.