Extra's Rise: I Stole All The Women In The Hero's Party-Chapter 120: Wash Me~

Zayn was still trying to process the fact that his shirt was somewhere under Elisse’s bed when she took his hand and pulled him toward the bathroom in her room.

She didn’t say a word. She didn’t have to.

The look she gave him — half teasing, half determined — said it all.

He followed like a very willing man.

The bathroom was warm, lit by soft golden magic lamps along the corners.

A small tub sat in the middle, already filled halfway with warm, steaming water, courtesy of enchanted rune plumbing or whatever beautiful ancient civilization had blessed this house with indoor hygiene.

Elisse closed the door behind them with a quiet click and locked it.

Zayn stood there like a mildly stunned statue. "So... we’re doing this, huh?"

She turned to him, already slipping off her boots.

"We’re washing off the sweat," she said, her tone casual. Too casual.

Zayn squinted. "Together?"

Elisse raised an eyebrow. "You complaining?"

"No! I’m grateful!" he said, maybe too fast. "Like, life-changingly grateful."

She laughed, turning her back to him as she undid her top. "Then shut up and strip."

Zayn nodded like he was receiving a sacred quest.

One by one, they took off their clothes — not in some cinematic rush of passion, but in the very real, vaguely awkward way that involved hopping out of pants and nearly tripping over socks.

Elisse, ever graceful, folded her things on the counter.

Zayn? Zayn accidentally elbowed a soap tray and muttered something about it trying to kill him.

When they both finally climbed into the tub, it was warm, relaxing... and mildly terrifying.

Not in a bad way.

Just in the you are now sitting naked in a tub with a beautiful woman and trying to remember how to act normal kind of way. frёewebnoѵēl.com

Elisse settled across from him, knees bumping against his as the water sloshed.

Her hair was damp now, curling slightly at the ends as it soaked.

She grabbed a soft cloth, dipped it in the water, and leaned forward.

"Hold still," she murmured, starting to gently scrub his shoulder.

Zayn froze. "I’m not emotionally prepared for how tender this is."

She rolled her eyes but smiled, her fingers brushing over his arm, slow and precise. "You had dirt in your elbow crease. You’re disgusting."

"And now I’m disgustingly lucky."

"Stop talking," she said, but she laughed, and he could tell her cheeks were a little pinker than before.

He let her wash him — shoulders, arms, back — biting his tongue to avoid any of the many dumb jokes flying around his head like caffeinated pigeons.

Her touch was soft, her movements unhurried.

She even hummed a little tune at one point, which nearly broke his brain because it was all too domestic and cute and intimate.

Then she handed him the cloth.

"Your turn."

Zayn blinked. "I don’t want to mess up the vibe."

"Just wash me, dummy."

He dipped the cloth back into the water and leaned in, starting at her back, carefully sliding the cloth over her shoulders and down her spine.

He was careful, gentle, and extremely aware of the two massive distractions floating slightly in front of him.

’Do not touch the boobs. Do not touch the boobs,’ he repeated like a mantra. ’Even if they are right there. Stay strong.’

He looked up at her face — eyes closed, face relaxed but with the faintest hint of a blush — and he knew she was aware.

She definitely knew.

"Are you fighting a war in your head?" she asked suddenly, eyes still closed.

"Yes," Zayn said immediately.

She cracked an eye open. "And?"

"I’m winning. Barely. It’s a war of attrition."

Elisse giggled, which made the water ripple dangerously. "You’re sweet."

"I’m trying not to be pervy."

"Well," she said, tilting her head coyly, "I appreciate the effort. Gold star for you."

When they were done, the water had gone lukewarm, and their skin was pruny.

Elisse stood first, grabbing a fluffy white towel and wrapping it around herself before stepping out onto the rug.

"Okay," she said, fluffing her hair. "I need to change."

Zayn blinked up at her from the tub. "Want me to help — ?"

"No," she said flatly, though her cheeks were still red. "You go. Before I accidentally let you cop a feel and then Tobias and Bran will start knocking at the door."

He saluted with a wet hand. "Yes ma’am."

Zayn stood, grabbed a towel for himself, and very, very briskly made his exit.

He scurried back to his room like a guilty teen escaping a forbidden date, dripping slightly and still flustered from the whole situation.

Once inside, he shut the door behind him, leaned against it, and exhaled like he’d just run a marathon with emotional landmines.

He dried off, changed into a fresh set of clothes — something simple but presentable.

Dark trousers, a clean button-up, and a belt that he had to reloop twice because his hands kept slipping.

’Okay,’ he thought. ’Cool, calm, casual. No one needs to know you almost passed out from sensory overload in a bathtub.’

He headed downstairs, trying to walk like a normal person and not someone who just had the most stressful wholesome bath of his life.

When he reached the living room, Bran was lounging on the couch with his shirt half open and a cold drink in hand. They began talking.

Elisse came down a minute later, fully dressed, looking like the serene, polished version of the woman who’d been tangled up with him in a bathtub five minutes ago.

She gave him a small smile and sat beside him with a polite distance.

And Kara descended shortly after, smelling very reminiscent of soap.

Tobias finally appeared, glasses cleaned and hair slightly damp from a fast rinse, holding a scroll of parchment. "Alright, people. Ready for a trip to the guild?"

Bran cracked his neck. "Let’s go."

"Lead the way," Elisse said sweetly, though her foot lightly nudged Zayn’s ankle under the table so he could move.

He had been spacing out after all.