The Lunar Curse: A Second Chance With Alpha Draven novel Chapter 542

Chapter 542: Naughty Hands

[Meredith].

I leaned my head back against the rim of the tub and closed my eyes, letting the day drain out of me inch by inch.

And that was when I sensed him along with his familiar scent.

I opened my eyes slowly, and there Draven was, leaning against the doorframe, watching me with that familiar look that made my heart forget how to behave.

"Are you done pretending I’m not here?" he asked lightly.

Heat crept up my neck instantly. "You have knocked to draw my attention," I muttered.

"I did," he said. "But you didn’t answer."

I shifted in the water, suddenly far too aware of myself. "That doesn’t mean you are allowed to watch secretly."

His lips curved. "You didn’t say I couldn’t."

I huffed, sinking a little lower in the tub, though the gesture was useless. My ears felt warm, embarrassingly so.

Draven pushed himself off the door frame and stepped closer, his voice softer now. "You look exhausted."

"I am," I admitted before I could stop myself.

For a moment, he only studied me, and something in his expression gentled. Then he rolled up his sleeves.

"Move forward," he said quietly. "Let me help."

I hesitated because suddenly, the vulnerability of it all pressed down on me. Letting someone care for you when you’re worn thin was its own kind of courage.

But this was my husband, my mate, so I nodded in the end.

Draven knelt beside the tub, carefully and unhurriedly. His warm, steady hands dipped into the water as he helped rinse the suds from my shoulders and arms.

The touch was reverent, almost ceremonial, as though he understood that this wasn’t about bathing at all.

I relaxed despite myself.

"See?" he murmured, a hint of pride in his tone. "I can behave."

I snorted softly. "For now."

He smiled at that, but when he helped me out of the tub moments later, wrapping a towel around me with practised ease, I noticed the way his jaw tightened, restraint written plainly across his face.

Next, he sat me down on the edge of the tub, drying my arms and my hair, slowly and thoroughly. I hadn’t realized how heavy my eyelids felt until I nearly leaned into him.

"You have to lie down," he said. "And I will help with the rest."

I didn’t even question it.

He guided me to the cushioned bench near the window of our bedroom, and I stretched out on my stomach, too tired to argue.

When his hands pressed gently into my shoulders, I sighed. "Draven..."

"That bad?"

"Yes," I breathed. "Don’t stop."

At first, the massage was perfect—firm, skilled, easing the ache from my back, my neck, my legs. I melted into it, the tension bleeding away.

But then, his thumbs lingered just a second longer than necessary, and the next moment, his hands slid lower.

Instantly, I cracked one eye open. "You’re being naughty."

"I don’t know what you’re talking about," he replied smoothly, his hands stilling in innocent compliance for exactly three seconds.

I groaned when he resumed, half-laughing, half-trapped as he leaned closer, his breath warm against my ear.

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