Serena's voice dropped to silk as her fingers traced the line of Elena's jaw, tilting her face toward the hers. The water lapped at their chests, steam curling around them like a veil, the heat clinging to their skin. On the marble edge, a single aesthetic candle flickered, its flame reflected in Serena's dark eyes.
"You're beautiful," Serena said. Not a compliment—a fact. An anchor. Something undeniable, spoken with the same finality she used when giving an order no one dared question.
Elena's breath caught. That word, in this woman's mouth, hit different than it ever had.
Beautiful…
She opened her lips to reply, but Serena's thumb pressed gently against her lower lip, silencing her.
"Don't talk," Serena whispered. "Just feel."
