CHAPTER 114: HIS

Ella didn’t know how long she lay there in Nicholas’s arms, only that the world had gone quiet.

The kind of quiet that made her feel like they were the only two people on the planet.

Her body was still humming, warm and boneless, every muscle unspooled. The blindfold lay forgotten beside her head, the sheets beneath them a mess of tangled linen and heat. Nicholas hadn’t moved much—he stayed close, arms wrapped around her waist, one hand stroking slow, soothing patterns across her back like he was tracing the outline of something precious.

She sighed into his neck. "You trying to make me melt into the mattress?"

"I think you already have," he murmured, voice gravelly with spent desire.

She smiled, cheek pressed against his collarbone. "You’re smug."

"Only because you make it too easy," he said, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "You okay?"

The question landed softly. Ella didn’t rush to answer.

She tilted her head just enough to look up at him, her eyes still glassy, a little dazed. But clear. Present. "I’m okay," she said. "Better than okay."

Nicholas searched her face for a moment longer, like he was still watching for any sign of hesitation. When he found none, something in him softened visibly. He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and kissed her again—sweet, unhurried, like a promise.

Then he moved.

He sat up carefully, easing away from her body, his movements quiet and measured. She watched him as he reached across the bed for the edge of the comforter and pulled it gently over her, covering her bare skin. His palm lingered on her shoulder before slipping away.

"Stay," he said. "I’ll be right back."

She watched him disappear into the en suite bathroom, the door clicking softly behind him.

The room was still warm, still dim, but the edge of intensity had faded now. What was left was something quieter. Intimate. Safe.

Ella sank deeper into the pillows and exhaled slowly, her hand brushing the still-warm imprint of his body beside her. She could still feel him everywhere—in her skin, her breath, the place between her thighs that still ached in the most delicious way. But more than that... she felt full.

Held.

Moments later, Nicholas returned with a warm, damp cloth in one hand and a glass of water in the other. His hair was damp at the edges, like he’d splashed water over his face, and his expression had gentled—no longer that dark, commanding intensity. Now, he just looked like a man in love with the woman in his bed.

Without saying a word, he settled beside her, pulled back the blanket just enough, and began to clean her gently.

Ella inhaled sharply—not from discomfort, but from how careful he was. His touch was slow, respectful, like she was something delicate, and not someone who’d just screamed herself raw beneath him minutes ago.

"You don’t have to do that," she whispered, watching him.

He met her eyes as he dragged the cloth between her thighs. "I know."

"Then why?"

His gaze didn’t waver. "Because I want to. Because you trusted me enough to let go—and now I want to make sure you feel safe afterward. Every time."

Her throat tightened unexpectedly.

She swallowed. "You’re... not what I expected."

Nicholas raised an eyebrow, wringing out the cloth. "What did you expect?"

She gave a half-laugh, half-sigh. "Honestly? I don’t know. Just not someone who brings me water, washes me, and holds me like I’m breakable."

He reached for her hand and pressed the glass into it. "You’re not breakable," he said softly. "But you do deserve to be cared for."

Ella stared at him for a long moment, then drank slowly, her fingers grazing his as she handed the glass back.

Nicholas tossed the cloth aside, turned the lamp down until the room was washed in gold, and then slipped back beneath the covers. He pulled her close without asking, settling her against his chest, her back tucked into the warm curve of his body. One arm came around her waist. The other drew lazy circles over her hip.

She felt herself start to drift, but not from exhaustion.

It was him.

His breath at her neck. His body surrounding hers. The steady thump of his heartbeat beneath her palm.

"Nicholas?"

"Mm?"

"That thing you said... about me being all soft. All yours."

His lips brushed her shoulder. "Yeah?"

A pause.

"I think I liked hearing that more than I should have."

He smiled against her skin. "That wasn’t a line, Ella."

"I know," she whispered. "That’s the problem."

Silence settled for a beat. Then she felt him nuzzle into her hair, warm and a little breathless.

"I meant it," he said. "All of it. You looked so beautiful... lying there, trusting me. I’ve never had that before. Not like this."

Ella turned slightly in his arms so she could see his face. The raw honesty in his eyes made her chest ache.

"You have it now," she whispered. "You have me now."

His expression crumbled, just a little. He bent his head and kissed her—slow, aching, like it hurt to hold that much feeling inside.

When they pulled apart, Ella traced her fingers along his jaw, over the faint stubble, down the curve of his throat. Her heart was too full to speak. So she didn’t. She just curled into him, her head tucked beneath his chin, her body completely surrendered to the warmth of his embrace.

Nicholas held her there, his thumb stroking the inside of her arm until her breathing slowed, until her body stilled.

"Rest," he murmured. "I’ve got you."

And she believed him.

Wrapped in the circle of his arms, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, Ella drifted into sleep with a soft, content sigh on her lips.

And Nicholas stayed awake a little longer, watching her, memorizing the way she looked in that quiet, peaceful moment—unguarded and his.

Completely his.