The bathroom door creaked open.*

Henry looked up, water sluicing down his dark hair as his gaze landed on you—bare skin, defiant eyes, the steam curling between you like a challenge. His surprise flickered into something darker, something hungry, but his voice was a lazy drawl.

"Miss me already?" Henry asked

You stepped into the shower, the water sloshing as you wedged yourself between his legs , your back against his chest. His arms banded around your waist, pulling you flush against him before you could protest. His breath was hot on your ear.

"Move over. I’m showering." you mumbling

A low chuckle. His hands slid up your ribs, possessive, testing. "Bold of you to join me after last night." Henry said his hands were already sliding over your skin—possessive, deliberate.

"Your bodyguards won’t let me use the other bathroom." , "I hate your bodyguards. They only listen to you."

A low chuckle rumbled in his chest. "Of course they do." His fingers traced idle patterns on your stomach. "Loyalty isn’t given—it’s earned."

You tensed, but his grip only tightened, thumbs brushing the bruises on your hips—his marks, his claim. The water turned his exhale into a shudder against your neck.

You hissing "I’m your wife.That should mean something."

His grip tightened—just slightly. "It does." His voice was rough. "But power? That’s different." he murmured. His teeth grazed your shoulder—not quite a bite, not quite a kiss.

You shoved his hands away. "Don’t."

For a heartbeat, he let you push him back. Then his palm smacked against the tile beside your head, caging you in. His other hand traced the bruise again, deliberate.

Henry's voice soft, dangerous .. "Tell me, darling—does it hurt worse here?" His fingers pressed down. "Or here?" His mouth brushed your pulse point.

You swallowed. "Go to hell."

He laughed, rough and raw. "Already there." His lips ghosted up your throat. "But you’re here with me, aren’t you?"

The water ran cold. Neither of you moved. The silence burned hotter.