The early morning light filtered through the sheer curtains, casting golden streaks over the tangled sheets and the two bodies entwined beneath them. The air still carried the lingering heat of the night before—of whispered names, of shuddering breaths, of fingers gripping desperately as though the world outside had ceased to exist. Nathaniel lay still, his arm possessively draped over Elena's waist, his fingers trailing the soft curve of her hip. Every inch of him still burned with the memory of her—the way she had surrendered, the way she had clung to him, the way she had met his every movement with the fire of her own.
He should have moved. Should have let reality sink in. But how could he, when she was still here, warm against his skin, her scent still woven into his very being? He had spent too many nights trying to push this away, too many days convincing himself that this pull between them was temporary, fleeting. But last night had destroyed every illusion.
His fingers moved slowly, tracing along her spine in soft, absentminded strokes. Her breathing was deep and steady, her body nestled so perfectly against his own that it felt as if she had always belonged there. His lips curled into a smirk at the memory of how fiercely she had held onto him, her voice breaking as she whispered his name over and over, lost in the moment, lost in him.
And now, in the soft silence of the morning, he felt something deeper than just desire. Something he had tried so hard to ignore, but it was there, undeniable, unshakable.
Elena stirred, a soft murmur slipping from her lips as she turned in his arms. Her lashes fluttered before she opened her eyes, dark and hazy with sleep, but when they met his, awareness flickered immediately. No embarrassment. No hesitation. Just the same quiet intensity that had been there from the beginning.
For a long moment, they simply stared at each other.
Then, she reached up, her fingers tracing along the sharp edge of his jaw before resting against his lips. Her touch was light, barely there, but it sent a shiver through him all the same.
"Say it," she whispered, her voice soft but laced with something that sent a slow burn through his veins.
Nathaniel exhaled slowly, his fingers tightening on her hip. He knew what she wanted. Knew what she needed. And God help him, he could no longer hold back.
His gaze never wavered as he lifted her chin slightly, his thumb brushing against her lower lip. "I want you," he murmured, his voice low, rough, raw. "More than I've ever wanted anything."
A slow, knowing smile curved her lips, her fingers sliding down his chest, her touch deliberate, teasing. "Then take me," she whispered.
Control shattered.
Nathaniel rolled her beneath him, capturing her mouth in a deep, searing kiss. There was no hesitation, no second-guessing, only fire—blazing, consuming. She met him with equal intensity, her hands tangling in his hair, her body arching into his as if she couldn't bear even an inch of space between them.
And he was lost.
Completely, irreversibly lost.
The sun climbed higher, but neither of them moved from the bed, the warmth of the sheets nothing compared to the heat they had created between them. Nathaniel lay on his side, his fingers idly tracing the slope of Elena's bare shoulder, his expression unreadable as he watched her.
She exhaled slowly, her lips still swollen from his kisses, her body still sensitive from his touch. But in her eyes, there was something unguarded, something that made his chest tighten.
"We can't pretend anymore, can we?" she asked softly.
Nathaniel's jaw clenched. He knew what she meant. Last night hadn't just been about crossing a line—it had been about obliterating it. There was no going back now.
"No," he admitted, his voice gruff. "We can't."
A small smile touched her lips, but there was something uncertain beneath it. Something fragile. "Does it scare you?"
He didn't answer immediately. Instead, he reached out, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face, his fingers lingering against her skin. "It should," he murmured. "But it doesn't."
Her breath caught, her fingers curling into the sheets as she searched his gaze. He could see the questions in her eyes, the unspoken worries, the fear of what this meant for both of them.
But then he leaned in, pressing his lips to hers in a kiss that was slow, deep, and filled with a promise he hadn't even realized he was making.
A promise that whatever this was—whatever they were now—he wasn't going to let it go.
And as she melted into him once more, her hands pulling him closer, he knew she felt it too.
The morning stretched on, time losing its meaning as they remained wrapped in each other. Nathaniel's fingers ghosted along the delicate curve of Elena's spine, tracing slow, absentminded patterns that sent small shivers through her. She lay beside him, her body still tangled with his, her breathing steady but shallow, as though she were still caught in the haze of everything that had happened between them.
But beneath the warmth of her skin, he could feel something more—the unspoken weight of what they had done, what they had become. It wasn't just about desire anymore; it wasn't just about the way she fit against him so perfectly, the way she had surrendered so completely. No, it was something deeper, something neither of them could deny any longer.
Elena shifted slightly, her leg brushing against his under the sheets, her fingers tracing the outline of his forearm. She hadn't spoken much since he had told her the truth—that he wanted her, that he had always wanted her. But her silence wasn't one of regret. It was something else. Something heavier.
He propped himself up on one elbow, watching her carefully. "You're thinking too much," he murmured, his fingers tilting her chin so she had no choice but to meet his gaze.
She exhaled slowly, a faint smile tugging at her lips, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. "I can't help it," she admitted, her voice soft, hesitant. "This… whatever this is between us… it changes everything."
Nathaniel studied her for a long moment. She wasn't wrong. Everything had changed.
He had spent months keeping his distance, fighting the pull between them, convincing himself that this—she—was something he could resist. But last night had shattered every defense he had. There was no pretending anymore. No running. No more lines left uncrossed.
His thumb brushed against her lower lip, his voice quieter now. "Does that scare you?"
Elena hesitated. "No," she whispered. "But it does make me wonder… what happens now?"
Nathaniel let out a slow breath. He didn't have an answer for that. Because the truth was, he didn't know.
All he knew was that letting her go was no longer an option.
A sudden intensity flickered in his gaze as he leaned in, capturing her lips in a slow, lingering kiss. He wanted her to feel it—to understand, without words, that she wasn't alone in this, that whatever came next, they would face it together.
She sighed into his kiss, her body melting into his once more, her fingers sliding up his chest, over his shoulders, pulling him closer. The tension, the uncertainty, it all faded in that moment, replaced by the familiar, undeniable need that had always existed between them.
Nathaniel deepened the kiss, his hands roaming over her skin, his touch reverent and deliberate, as if trying to etch the memory of her into his very soul.
And as she gasped against his lips, arching into him, he knew—he would never be able to stop wanting her.