Dahlia's words faltered, caught in her throat as Sullivan paused his tender caresses.
"I think... maybe we should just bathe," she finally managed after a long silence. "I haven't eaten properly since yesterday." She needed to stop him—it was the only way she could hold on to her resolve, because she wasn't ready for what might come next.
Sullivan's hands withdrew, and she quickly shifted to sit beside him, a wave of relief washing over her. Her gaze briefly dropped to his lower body, noticing that he had already slipped into loose trousers.
"What are you staring at?" Sullivan's voice was low but amused.
"What? Nothing," she stammered, meeting his eyes for a fleeting moment before quickly looking away, pulling her knees to her chest. "I think I should leave," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. But before she could make a move, Sullivan caught her hand, his grip firm but gentle.
