CHAPTER 72: REPULSIVE

Nicholas hadn’t moved far. He lay beside her for a few more minutes, brushing gentle circles against her back, his breath slowly calming. The room was hushed now, only the faint hum of the city outside filling the silence between them. But even in silence, Ella felt held—protected—in a way she never had before.

Still, her body ached, tender and unfamiliar in its looseness. Her muscles had melted during their time together, but now she felt a lingering soreness between her legs and a shyness creeping in, pulling the sheets closer to her chest. It wasn’t regret. No, not even close. But the vulnerability of being fully seen—fully taken—was beginning to settle in.

Nicholas stirred and pressed a kiss to her shoulder, then slowly sat up, stretching before sliding off the bed.

"Where are you going?" she asked, her voice sleepy.

He looked over his shoulder, flashing her a small grin. "To run you a bath."

"A bath?" she echoed, blinking.

"Yes," he said, walking into the bathroom. "Don’t move. I’ll come get you when it’s ready."

She heard the water running soon after, then the clink of glass—probably candles or those expensive bath oils she’d once seen tucked under the sink. Nicholas had always seemed so polished, so controlled. She hadn’t expected softness from him. Not like this.

Ten minutes later, he padded back into the room, a towel slung low around his waist. "Come on,dolcezza. It’s ready."

Her fingers gripped the sheets. "I’m... I’ll come in a minute."

Nicholas tilted his head. "Ella," he said gently, reading her like a book. "You don’t need to be shy."

But she was. Her body was still flushed from what they’d shared, the reality of her nakedness crashing down on her all over again.

He crossed the room, crouching by the edge of the bed. "Hey," he said, brushing her hair back behind her ear. "You’ve got nothing to hide from me. You don’t have to pretend to be okay if you’re not. But don’t hide yourself. Not after tonight."

"I’m not pretending," she murmured, but her voice betrayed her.

He kissed her forehead and held out his hand.

She took it.

He guided her to the bathroom, where the tub was filled with warm water and soft bubbles. Candlelight flickered across the tiles, casting the room in a golden haze. The scent of lavender and something woody filled the air—comforting and familiar. Her breath caught again, but this time, it wasn’t from nerves. It was awe.

"You first," he said, stepping into the water and settling against the edge with a small hiss of approval. "Come on. I promise I won’t bite."

She hesitated for a moment longer, then dropped the sheet and quickly stepped in before she could second-guess herself. The warm water enveloped her instantly, easing the soreness and calming her nerves. She sank down between his legs, her back against his chest, arms tucked close to her body.

Nicholas wrapped his arms around her and pulled her gently against him. His hand brushed her hair aside to kiss the back of her neck, his touch so tender it almost undid her.

"Better?" he asked.

She nodded, too full of emotion to speak.

Steam swirled around them, and for a moment, there was only the sound of water and their quiet breathing. It was peaceful, almost surreal. She closed her eyes and leaned back into him, letting herself relax for the first time in what felt like years.

"Nick..." she whispered after a while, the tension creeping back in. "Can I say something?"

"Always."

She bit her lip, staring at the bubbles floating on top of the water. The words were there—pressing against her throat like they were begging to be free. And yet, fear still gripped her.

"I think... I think there’s a plus to us taking a bath," she said, forcing a small smile. "Because now I can word vomit the things I usually hide."

He gave her a little squeeze, encouraging her silently.

"If this goes tits up," she added, half-joking, "I can just... drown myself."

Nicholas huffed a quiet laugh. "Well, that escalated."

"I’m serious," she said, her voice softer now. "It’s easier here. Maybe because I can’t look you in the eye."

"Say whatever you need to say, Ella."

She inhaled deeply. Her fingers played with the bubbles again, distracting herself. "Because... I don’t understand how anyone could ever touch me and not be completely repulsed by me."

The words came out raw, trembling with honesty. Nicholas froze.

His arms, warm and solid around her, suddenly tensed. He didn’t say anything at first. Just held her tighter.

Then, in a voice she barely recognized—low and filled with pain—he asked, "...You think you’re repulsive?"

She nodded, the motion barely perceptible. She didn’t dare say it again. Hearing it aloud was bad enough.

Nicholas was silent for a long moment, as though the words hurt him more than he expected.

Then, slowly, almost hesitantly, he said, "So you don’t think that?"

Her heart thudded. She bit the inside of her cheek, her eyes burning again.

"...It’s not a thought," she whispered. "It’s a fact."

She didn’t look at him. She couldn’t. She just stared at the floating foam and murmured, "Repulsive. Disgusting. Abhorrent. Deformed. Defective. I’ve used every word. They all fit."

Nicholas’s hand came up to her shoulder. He turned her gently, guiding her to straddle his lap so they were facing. She tried to cover herself, but he stopped her—taking her hands, pressing them to his chest.

"You are not any of those things," he said firmly, his voice shaking with something he didn’t bother to hide.

She finally met his gaze. And it hit her like a punch—he looked devastated.

"Don’t say that about yourself," he added, quieter now. "Don’t even think it."

She opened her mouth, but he didn’t let her speak. He cupped her face, wiping a stray tear from her cheek with his thumb.

"I don’t know who made you feel like this," he whispered, "but they don’t get to win. Not while I’m here."

Her throat closed. Her arms slipped around his neck, and she buried her face against him. The water sloshed around them gently, but she barely noticed.

Nicholas held her, rubbing soothing circles on her back. "You’re not broken, Ella. You’ve just been hurt. But you’re still whole. You’re still you. And I see you."

She clung tighter, her silent tears lost in the warmth of the bath.

Eventually, he pulled back just enough to press a kiss to her forehead. "You’re not alone anymore. Okay? Not ever again."

A sob escaped her then—quiet, but real. And he kissed her again, over and over, until her body relaxed against his and the ache in her chest started to soften.

Later, after the water cooled and the candles flickered low, Nicholas helped her out of the tub and wrapped her in a plush towel, carrying her back to bed as if she weighed nothing. He tucked her in, curled around her with one arm draped protectively over her waist.

And for the first time in forever, Ella didn’t feel dirty.

She felt clean. Safe. Wanted.

Loved—even if he hadn’t said the word yet.

But she could feel it. Every time he touched her. Every time he looked at her like she was the most breathtaking thing in the world.

And somehow, that was enough—for now.