Catherine looked up at Maximilian, her gaze meeting his at last. She was certain her face was flushed, the heat rising far beyond what the bath could justify, and the awareness of it only made it worse.
Maximilian's lips curved slightly at the sight of her, something soft and knowing in his expression. Without a word, he held out his hand.
"What?" Catherine asked, though her voice lacked any real resistance.
He didn't answer. He only tilted his head faintly, damp strands of dark hair falling against his forehead, his eyes steady in a way that made it impossible to look away. There was something disarming in that quiet patience, in the way he simply waited, as though he already knew she would come to him.
And she did.
Almost helplessly.
She placed her hand in his, and he drew her toward him with an ease that made the movement feel natural, inevitable. The water shifted around her as she moved, and the next moment, she found herself settling onto his lap.
