"Content Warning: This chapter contains sexual content and psychological manipulation that some readers may find disturbing. While all acts appear consensual, they occur within a context of emotional coercion."
I have kept this chapter separate so if you want to skip the part after ****, just keep in mind what the narrative is and move ahead to next chapter.
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"Show me," Nathan whispered again, thumb brushing her bottom lip, his voice steady, unhurried — almost too calm.
The words lodged in her chest.
Show him?
Her breath hitched.
She had shown him.
Her kiss.
Her apology.
Her trembling heart laid bare right in front of him.
But he didn't want the softness she had given.
He wanted something else.
Something deeper.
Something that matched the intensity he wrapped her in every time he touched her — the intensity that made her shiver, that made her feel alive, wanted, claimed.
He wanted her truth, stripped from fear.
He wanted her to break her boundaries — the ones her parents had stitched into her since she was a child.
Don't touch.
Don't feel.
Don't trust too fast.
Don't step out of line.
Every rule that kept her small…
gentle…
careful…
Nathan wanted to tear through them.
"Elena," he murmured, tilting her chin up with two fingers, his voice brushing her skin like a warm current, "I don't want pieces of you. Not the parts shaped by fear."
His gaze held her, deep, dark, unwavering.
"I want you," he said. "Real. Unfiltered. Not hiding… not running… not drowning in guilt someone else placed on you."
Her breath trembled against his fingertips.
"But," she finally whispered, voice breaking, "I… I tried. I tried to show you, and you didn't… you didn't even—"
Her throat tightened. She looked away.
"I wasn't enough."
His jaw flexed. His fingers slid to her cheek, turning her face back to him.
"You were trying to disappear," he said quietly. "Not show yourself."
Her heartbeat stalled.
"You kissed me like you wanted forgiveness," he continued, his voice softer but no less intense, "not like you wanted me."
Heat bloomed across her skin, her pulse stumbling in her throat.
He lowered his forehead to hers.
"You've been taught to shrink," he whispered. "To make yourself smaller so no one's disappointed. To silence yourself so problems disappear. To carry guilt that was never yours."
His hand moved to her waist, fingers digging just enough to make her gasp.
"And I'm asking you to break that," he murmured. "With me."
Her breath escaped in a shaky rush.
The truth settled like a weight on her chest. Frightening, liberating, overwhelming.
He wasn't just asking for a kiss.
He was asking her to step past everything she'd been taught.
Her parents' rules.
Her own fear.
Her instinct to preserve peace at all costs.
"Nathan…" she whispered. She wanted his affection and his love.
"Look at me."
She did.
And it wrecked her.
Because he wasn't angry now.
Not cold.
Not harsh.
He looked like a man who wanted her to choose him fully, not fearfully.
Wanted her to step toward him without hesitation.
Wanted to feel her reach for him with the same intensity he felt every time he touched her.
Wanted her to break her shackles… for him.
"Elena," he said, his voice sinking into her bones, "I want you to come to me without guilt. Without fear. Without thinking you'll disappoint someone else."
His thumb traced her jaw.
"Break free," he whispered. "Come to me because you want me."
Her heart slammed against her ribs.
Want him?
She did.
God, she did.
Every nerve in her body lit up when he touched her, when he said her name, when he looked at her like she was the only thing he saw.
But wanting him meant stepping into a version of herself she didn't know yet — one that wasn't controlled by her parents' shadows or her own fear of being wrong.
He is right! What's stopping me from being his? Who's gonna stop her from what she wanted for herself? The world? Should I ruin this for the world?
No! I won't let my happiness to be ruined by this world. I've given it enough!
Her fingers trembled against his chest.
"Nathan," she breathed, "I… I don't know how."
"You show me," he murmured, his lips brushing her temple, "and I'll show you the rest."
Her pulse jumped.
He leaned back just enough for her to see his eyes clearly warm on the surface, dark beneath, pulling her in with a gravity she couldn't resist.
"Come here," he whispered. "Not because you're sorry."
His hand slid up her spine, slow, deliberate, drawing her closer.
"Come here because you choose me."
Her resistance broke like thin glass.
And for the first time —
she leaned in not out of fear,
not out of guilt,
not because she thought she had to…
But because she wanted to.
She didn't even realize she was moving until her knees brushed his.
Until her palm pressed against his chest.
Until she felt the sharp inhale he tried so hard to hide.
For a moment, a heartbeat suspended, she hovered there, inches from him, her breath trembling between them.
Nathan didn't close the distance.
Didn't pull her in.
Didn't guide her.
He waited.
Completely still.
Completely certain.
Completely hers to reach for.
Her fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt.
And she finally let herself fall forward.
****
Elena kissed him — not with apology, not with fear, not to fix something broken, but because every breath in her body begged for him.
Nathan exhaled sharply. The sound low, surprised, hungry — and then he moved.
He kissed her back with a slow, devastating intensity that made her chest tighten.
Not rushed.
Not greedy.
Just deep.
Purposeful.
Claiming in a way that made her legs weaken instantly.
His hand slid behind her neck, fingers threading into her damp hair, guiding her, angling her, deepening the kiss with a patience that almost undid her.
She gasped softly against his mouth and he swallowed the sound, his other hand tightening at her waist, drawing her completely onto his lap.
Her thighs brushed against him, heat spreading through her so sharply she had to grip his shoulders to steady herself.
His lips traced the corner of her mouth, down to the sharp line of her jaw, slow enough to make her shiver violently.
"Elena…" he breathed against her skin, voice thick, strained, "that's it… come here."
Her breath stuttered.
Because she could hear it.
The shift.
The subtle change in him.
His restraint thinning.
His control bending toward something deeper, darker, hungrier but held back only for her.
Only as far as she pushed.
Her hands slid from his shoulders to the warm skin at the base of his throat.
He inhaled sharply, the kind of breath that sounded like he'd been starving for her.
"Look at me," he murmured, his thumb brushing her cheek, urging her to lift her eyes.
She did.
Barely.
And the way he looked at her…
It was almost unbearable.
Soft devotion layered over something fierce and possessive, something she had never seen directed at her before.
"Do you trust me?" he whispered.
Her pulse tripped over itself.
"Y-yes," she breathed.
His grip at her waist tightened, pulling her impossibly closer.
"Then stop holding back."
The words hit her like a spark.
She swallowed — nerves tangled with heat.
Nathan didn't kiss her again.
He waited.
Letting her feel the gravity of his presence, his breath against her throat, the warmth of his hands on her body… letting her feel how much he wanted her — without taking anything she didn't give.
Elena leaned in again — this time grabbing his shirt, fisting the fabric and pulling him toward her like she was afraid he'd disappear if she didn't.
Her kiss was deeper, shakier, her lips parting under his, letting him in, letting herself want, not fear.
Nathan groaned softly — the sound low, almost pained — as if she had just crossed a line he'd been waiting for.
His hand slid up her back, slow, deliberate, tracing the curve of her spine, sending heat rushing through her veins.
She gasped.
Shivered.
Clung to him harder.
He caught her bottom lip gently between his, kissing her with a tenderness so intense it made her dizzy.
"Good girl…" he whispered against her mouth, the words melting straight through her.
Good girl?
Her entire body flushed at the praise — shockingly, helplessly — and she felt herself leaning deeper into him without even meaning to.
She wanted to pour her being, so he could feel her decision, that she'd break the chains and come to him, that she ached for him.
He tilted her chin up with his fingertips, kissing her slower now, deeper, each movement saying more than any apology or explanation ever could.
And Elena, who had spent her whole life holding back, staying small, staying quiet, broke another boundary she never imagined she could.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed herself fully against him, answering his kiss with something fierce and unguarded.
He inhaled sharply through his nose, a sound she felt down to her bones.
His hands slid beneath her thighs, lifting her effortlessly as her breath hitched against his mouth.
Her fingers in his hair.
His forehead pressed to hers.
Their breaths tangled.
Their hearts collided in messy, reckless rhythm.
"Elena…" His voice was a strained whisper, as if he were losing control of it. "If you keep kissing me like that… I won't be able to let you go."
"I don't—" her voice broke, "I don't want you to."
Something in him shattered at that.
He kissed her again, deeper, firmer, need threaded through restraint and the world slipped into a blur of warmth, breath, and trembling limbs.
His hands guided her back against the bed.
Her fingers pulled him with her.
Heat surged between them, slow and building.
His lips traced her throat, soft enough to make her arch, slow enough to be reverent.
Her hands slid over his shoulders, feeling the tension, the heat, the barely-contained hunger beneath his skin.
"Elena," he whispered again, voice breaking against her pulse, "tell me to stop."
She didn't. She wanted to let him know how deep her feelings were, for him.
She reached for him again, needing him closer, needing his lips, his warmth, his steadiness, his everything.
He caught her mouth with his once more.
Deep.
Consuming.
His hand slid beneath the hem of her tank top, fingers tracing the curve of her spine with aching precision.
Elena gasped softly, her back arching into his touch as if her body had been waiting for this—aching for it.
He paused at her waist, drawing slow, deliberate circles just above her navel. Each motion was a question, a promise, a test of how much she could bear.
Her breath trembled.
Then his hand moved upward, palm gliding over her ribs, fingertips brushing the edge of her bra.
She shivered. But nothing mattered when she was in his embrace.
His mouth found hers again, slower now, deeper—his groan muffled against her lips as his hand cupped her breast through the lace, reverent and restrained.
She whimpered into the kiss, her fingers tightening in his hair.
He didn't rush.
He simply held her there, thumb grazing the curve of her breast, learning her shape like a secret he'd been aching to uncover.
"Elena…" he breathed, voice rough with need and something deeper—something fragile.
She opened her eyes, met his gaze, and whispered, "Don't stop."
His forehead pressed to hers again, and for a moment, they just breathed—together, tangled, trembling.
Then his hand moved again, slow and sure, and desires wrapped around them like a secret kept too long.
Nathan pulled her tank top over her head in one slow, deliberate motion.
She didn't flinch.
Her breath trembled, but her gaze held steady—wide, vulnerable, and burning with something new. Something bold.
With trembling fingers, she reached for the buttons of his shirt.
One by one, she undid them, her knuckles brushing his chest, her breath catching with every inch of skin revealed.
He let her.
Pulled back just enough to watch her—his eyes dark with hunger, but patient. Reverent. As if her touch was something sacred.
She was doing it.
She was touching him like she meant it. Like she needed it.
When her shirt lay discarded beside his, he leaned in again, lips brushing her jaw, then her cheek, then—
Her breath hitched.
He reached her ear, and the heat of his tongue made her tremble. He gave her pleasure in ways she's couldn't imagine. She was lost.
She gasped, fingers tightening on his shoulders as he sucked gently, teasing the sensitive edge until she was shaking beneath him.
Then he moved lower.
His mouth traced the line of her neck, slow and unrelenting, until he reached the hollow at its center.
He paused.
Then bit—just enough to make her gasp again, just enough to make her tilt her head and offer him more.
Her pulse thundered beneath his lips.
And when he whispered her name again, it wasn't a question.
It was a vow.
His hands cupped her breasts, thumbs grazing the lace with a precision that made her gasp—sharp, involuntary, pleasure-laced.
She dug her nails into his shoulders, spine arching as if her body had surrendered to him completely.
He paused at the clasp of her bra, fingers resting there, gaze locked with hers.
"Is this okay?" he asked, voice low, reverent.
Elena nodded, shy but certain, her heart thundering so loud she was sure he could hear it.
Excitement coiled low in her belly, warm and rising.
Nathan unclasped the bra with practiced ease, then slid his fingers to her shoulders, brushing the straps down inch by inch.
The fabric fell away slowly, revealing her to him—not just her body, but the vulnerability she'd kept hidden for so long.
His eyes widened.
He didn't speak at first.
He just looked—drinking her in, reverent and stunned, as if he'd never seen anything so devastatingly beautiful.
Her curves, soft and strong, framed in soft sunlight filtering through the curtains, and breathlessness.
Then he met her gaze again, voice hushed and raw.
"Elena," he whispered, "you have no idea how deadly gorgeous you look right now."
She flushed, but didn't hide.
Instead, she reached for him again, her fingers brushing his chest, her lips parting with something fierce and unspoken.
And when he kissed her again, it was with worship.
With hunger.
With the kind of need that rewrites her perspective.
Nathan's gaze lingered, hungry, reverent, stunned.
His fingers brushed the edge of the bra, then slid it down her arms, slow as breath, revealing her inch by inch.
The fabric fell away, and he exhaled like he'd been holding it for years.
His eyes roamed her figure, taking in every curve, every line, every place she'd once tried to hide.
"You have no idea," he whispered, voice thick with awe, "how deadly gorgeous you look right now."
Elena flushed, but didn't shrink.
She held his gaze, chest rising and falling with every trembling breath, her hands still resting on his open shirt.
Then she leaned in, lips brushing his jaw, her voice barely audible but full of need.
"I want you to touch me."
His breath caught.
He cupped her again, this time with nothing between them but heat and skin. His hands moved with aching care, shaping to her curves, learning her softness like a language he'd waited a lifetime to speak.
She gasped, nails grazing his back, her body arching into his touch.
Nathan kissed her again, her cheek, her ear, her throat. Each kiss slower, deeper, more consuming than the last.
When he reached the hollow of her neck, he paused, then bit gently, just enough to make her moan, just enough to make her tilt her head and offer him more.
Her skin burned beneath his mouth.
Her heart thundered beneath his hands.
And when he whispered her name again, it was no longer a question.
It was a surrender.
Nathan's hands slid beneath her thighs again, lifting her with ease.
She rose to her knees, trembling—not from fear, but from the sheer weight of sensation coursing through her.
He kissed her collarbone, then lower, his breath warm against her skin.
His hands returned to her breasts, cupping them with aching care, teasing her with slow, deliberate movements that made her gasp and arch into him.
When his fingers found her again, pinching, rolling, coaxing—Elena's head tipped back, eyes fluttering shut as pleasure surged through her in waves.
She couldn't think.
Couldn't speak.
She could only feel.
His mouth followed, lips brushing the swell of her chest before closing around her—hot, wet, reverent.
He sucked gently, then circled his tongue, then sucked again, and Elena's breath shattered.
She moaned softly, the sound slipping from her lips like a secret she couldn't hold anymore.
Nathan didn't rush.
He worshipped her.
And in that moment, Elena wasn't afraid.
She was alive.
*****
She didn't notice how carefully he was learning every way to unmake her.
For the first time, she felt the chains fall away.
She didn't realise she'd just traded them for his.