The house was a vintage red building standing by the shimmering river, connected to a private dock where two yachts bobbed on the waves. It was nearly 3:00 AM. Arabella's nap in the car had left her wide awake and full of energy, and she began exploring the house.

This was Frederick's domain, and she was noticeably more bold here than at his grandparents' estate. She flipped on every light in the living room, dining room, terrace, and kitchen.

"This place is huge too! You have so many homes."

"Yas, I did."

His properties spanned the globe—over six hundred in total. He owned assets in every habitable corner of the earth; the taxes alone were astronomical. He had many houses, but none of them could truly be called a home. 

Frederick took her hand and led her to the master bedroom.

There were no servants here; they had to do everything themselves. Frederick took off her coat and hung it up but kept his own calf-length cashmere coat on as he went to the bathroom to draw her a bath.

Arabella climbed onto the oversized vanity in the center of the bathroom, watching him bustle about. His black coat was still cold from the forest, its sharp lines making him look disciplined and ascetic—a stark contrast to the misty, warm bathroom.

Arabella kindly reminded him, "Why don't you take off your coat? It's hot in here."

"I'm not hot." Frederick tested the water temperature with his hand. "Take off your clothes and get in."

Arabella hopped down and nimbly stripped off her sweater and pants. Underneath, she wore a set of ultra-thin, form-fitting thermal underwear in cream-pink. The soft baby cashmere outlined her lithe, elegant curves. She was incredibly sensitive to the cold, often dressing in layers like a nesting doll. 

She likely came from a warm place where it was spring year-round, whereas Frederick was accustomed to the freezing winter and snow.

Frederick shook his head slightly. "Take off the long johns too."

Arabella grinned mischievously as she stripped. "Why aren't you leaving today? Every other time I bathe, you always go out!"

Frederick didn't turn away. He faced her directly, his gaze as calm and deep as the ocean.

The thermals and socks were tossed into the hamper. Then, without a trace of lady-like reserve, she shucked off her lace panties. Her soft, fair bottom was fully exposed, swaying as she moved. Frederick's lashes fluttered almost imperceptibly, his gaze naturally sweeping over her before he turned to unwrap an essential oil bath bomb and drop it into the water.

Plop.

The bath bomb dissolved instantly, sending bubbles across the surface and tinting the water a milky cherry blossom pink.

Arabella gripped Frederick's arm as she stepped into the sunken tub. She playfully stirred the water with her feet, splashing his coat and trousers. Frederick only offered a doting smile, his large palm landing with a firm but gentle smack on her bare bottom.

"Brat."

Arabella actually liked the sensation of being swatted; it felt good. It was strange—surely something was wrong with her head for enjoying it. She pouted. "So, you're going to stay with me while I bathe today, right?"

"I will be with you all night." Frederick calmly clenched his fist.

"Is it only for tonight? What about tomorrow night? The night after? What about next week? Next month?" Arabella sat in the tub, the gentle ripples of water swaying around her. She idly brushed the surface with her hand, intentionally creating small splashes.

Frederick's coat was already half-soaked. He sat on the edge of the tub. "I will. Every night."

The bath time was lazy and warm, with steam rising and mist curling through the air. The tub was large enough to stretch out fully. Arabella soaked with her eyes closed for a minute, and when she opened them, Frederick was still there, still wearing that cumbersome coat.

She didn't understand why he wouldn't take it off. Reaching out with wet hands, she tugged at it. "Aren't you really hot? You're sweating."

Frederick was indeed drenched in sweat. Beneath the coat, he was tensed to the breaking point; if it were opened, his true state would be exposed. He steadied his breath and caught her hand. "Don't, Bella."

"I want to wash with you!" Arabella leaned out of the water, resting her elbows on his lap and looking up at him. Under the warm yellow light, she looked like a mermaid.

"A lady shouldn't invite a man to bathe with her. Remember? I am accompanying you, not bathing with you."

"But I want you to wash with me, wash with me, wash with me..."

Frederick covered her mouth, laughing helplessly. "Stop, baby, you're making me dizzy." He inhaled the damp, fragrant mist, and his breathing grew heavier. He rasped, "Don't do this, baby."

Truly, don't. He was on the verge of losing control at any moment.

Couldn't she see he was different from usual?

His breath, his temperature, his heartbeat, his expression, even his tensed muscles—everything was different. And yet she was there, bare and unapologetic, swaying the "loaves of bread" he wanted to ravage. He might squeeze her too hard, swat her, bite her, or crash into her with too much force.

She kept pulling at his clothes. His resistance was failing, and the coat accidentally fell open.

Arabella's eyes widened. She spotted the secret. "My big baguette...!"

She really didn't make things easy for him. Frederick closed his eyes and took a few seconds to compose himself.

Then, his large hand suddenly clamped around her neck. He leaned down and kissed her, his rough tongue filling her mouth, sucking fiercely. The sound of splashing water and wet kisses echoed in the quiet bathroom.

His hand slid down from her neck. Her skin, coated in bath oil, was incredibly slick. There was almost no friction as his palm eventually cupped those inverted white porcelain bowls. 

White bowls filled with sweet milk, meant to be savored slowly.

Arabella was kissed breathless, but she still opened her mouth, offering her tongue to let him take more. She had no idea that she was being purely provocative.

But she didn't know how to breathe during a kiss, and once the oxygen in her lungs was spent, she patted his shoulder with a small whimper. Frederick pulled back just in time.

Arabella clutched her chest, breathing hard, her cheeks flushed deep red. She stared at him blankly. "Frederick..."

Frederick's Adam's apple bobbed. "Does it hurt?" His gaze fell on her chest, where five red finger marks were clearly visible. It pained him, yet stirred something primal. If he wasn't careful, the other self inside him would break free.

"It doesn't hurt. It felt good when you did that." Arabella grinned. It really did feel good. His rough palms had some kind of magic that left her tingling and weak.

Frederick closed his eyes, defeated by her innocence.