"Content Warning: This chapter contains explicit sexual content and depicts intimate situations within a psychologically manipulative relationship. Reader discretion advised."
You can skip the section after **** explicit content.
Elena drifted awake to the soft buzz of her phone.
The room was dim with late-afternoon light, warm and hazy, and for a moment she didn't understand where she was — why her body felt so loose, so warm, so… complete.
Then she looked down.
Nathan's head rested against her bare chest, his cheek pressed over her heartbeat, his arm draped possessively across her waist.
His breathing was slow, steady, completely undone by sleep. His hair fell messily over his forehead, his features younger, softer, stripped of the sharp edges he carried through the world.
He looked boyish.
He looked breakable.
Why was I terrified of this man? She felt ridiculous mistrusting his intentions now.
He looked nothing like the man who commanded rooms, ended conversations with a glance, or tied her in knots with nothing but his voice.
He looked like a simple man now.
And something in her chest melted.
Her first instinct was self-consciousness — the kind of reflex she'd grown up with, the one that whispered you shouldn't be seen like this.
But she brushed it away almost instantly.
Because she liked the closeness.
She liked the weight of him, the warmth of him, the quiet safety of his body curled around hers.
And what happened a few hours ago…
A flush crept up her neck.
It had opened doors inside her she didn't even know existed — desires she had never allowed herself to imagine, let alone feel.
It was surreal.
It was overwhelming.
It was intoxicating.
It felt like he completed something in her she never knew was missing.
Her mind replayed his voice, low and ragged from restraint:
> "Elena, we should stop… before we fall deeper."
But she hadn't stopped.
She remembered leaning into him, clinging to him, wanting him with a need that had scared her and thrilled her all at once.
And Nathan had chuckled softly against her ear, breath warm and shaking with control.
> "My sweetheart… I won't do anything you aren't ready for yet."
"I'll take you slow."
"I'll show you the world of my desire when you're ready."
"Calm yourself, baby… you don't know how much self-restraint I need to stop."
He restrained himself for me, I should might as well appreciate his care!
And she had stopped.
He'd pulled her close afterward, settling beside her, his arms wrapping around her waist. His face had nuzzled into the hollow of her neck like it was home. She'd felt the warmth of his breath, the steady rise and fall of his chest, the way his fingers traced lazy circles on her hip until sleep claimed her.
She had drifted into the most peaceful sleep she'd had in months.
I don't want to loose him to fear.
He is right! I can't make the world happy, but I can make him happy.
I choose 'us' over this world!
I'll have to be brave enough to choose him!
It was then — in his voice, in his shaking breath, in the way he held her — that she understood.
Now, the phone buzzed again.
She glanced toward the nightstand but didn't reach for it.
Not yet.
She didn't want to break this moment. This quiet, tender bubble that felt too rare, too fragile to disturb.
Not when Nathan was sleeping on her bare skin like she was the only place in the world he felt safe.
Not when her heart felt full in a way she didn't have the courage to say aloud.
I have to find my courage now!
I won't let shame or the judgements consume 'us'.
She shifted slightly, careful not to wake him, her fingers brushing back the hair from his forehead.
And she let herself savor it.
Just a little longer.
The phone buzzed again — louder this time, vibrating insistently against the nightstand.
Elena sighed and reached out, careful not to jostle Nathan's head resting against her chest. She picked up the phone and froze when she saw the screen.
Adrian.
Calling.
Her stomach tightened.
Part of her wanted to ignore it, to sink back into the warmth wrapped around her. But another part whispered:
Adrian will panic. He'll show up. He'll worry. I can't do that to him.
Before she could decide, Nathan's rough, sleep-heavy voice rumbled against her skin.
"Baby… who's that?"
His hand slid up her waist lazily, pulling her even closer without opening his eyes.
"It's… Adrian," she said softly.
That made him stir.
He lifted his head slightly to look at her, eyes still half-lidded from sleep but sharp enough to make her heart stumble.
"You wanna take it?" he asked, though his tone was already edged with quiet displeasure.
"Yeah… or he'll come barging into my house," she whispered.
Nathan let out a low hum, the kind that vibrated against her ribs.
"Hmm. Okay."
His thumb stroked her hip once — slow, claiming.
"Just don't make any plans with him."
His voice dropped, possessive and warm.
"I want you all for myself."
He released her reluctantly, letting her slip from his arms.
Is he being possessive? She brushed the thought away.
Elena sat up, tugging her tank top over her head hurriedly as the phone buzzed again. Her hands shook slightly from the call or from Nathan's closeness, she couldn't tell.
She answered.
"Where have you vanished, Hamilton?" Adrian's voice hit immediately, rushed, worried. "Everything okay?"
Elena smiled faintly. "Hello to you too…"
"I called last night," he continued, voice sharp with concern. "You didn't pick up. You didn't reply today. What the hell is going on?"
"I'm in the comforts of my home," she tried to stay it lightly. "Nick left for Scotland, so I'm enjoying the me-time."
She felt guilt running through her veins for lying to Adrian. He's my best friend,he cares about me and yet, I have to remain silent until 'we' are sure about it! She hated herself for doing this to him.
Nathan's hand slid around her waist again, fingers gripping playfully — warningly.
Elena shot him a look.
Not now.
He only smirked. She shaked her head, and couldn't help but smile at him.
Adrian's voice snapped her attention back. "Okay, that's it — I'm coming to pick you up. Enough of your me time."
She nearly jumped. "Nonono—I… I don't want to go out tonight. Maybe tomorrow?"
It's okay Elena, you are just saving him from worrying over nothing!
Nathan leaned close enough that she felt his breath on her ear.
"End it," he whispered with a lazy smile.
"Quick."
Elena swallowed hard, trying to focus on the call while Nathan's presence clouded every thought.
Adrian sighed on the line. "You always have your way, Hamilton. Fine. Tomorrow."
"Okay. Done. See you—"
Before she could finish, Nathan plucked the phone from her hand, tapped the screen, and tossed it to the far end of the bed without even glancing at it.
"Nathan!" she laughed, startled. "What are you doing?"
He crawled closer, eyes darkening with a mix of mischief and hunger.
"Trying to get your attention, sweetheart."
And the way he said it made her pulse stumble all over again.
She heard his stomach grumble.
"You're hungry," she laughed softly.
Nathan's lips curved into a slow, wicked smile.
"Yes, I am," he murmured, eyes dragging over her barely-covered body. "But not for food."
Her heart skipped a beat.
She scrambled off the bed in a flustered rush, trying to escape the heat rising in her cheeks but she barely made it three steps.
He was faster.
Much faster.
In two long strides, his hand closed around her wrist, firm but playful, and before she could protest he swept her clean off her feet.
She let out a startled gasp as he spun her in a quick circle, her hair flying, her laughter spilling out helplessly.
"Nathan!" she squealed. "What do you think you are doing?" She tried to protest.
But the moment he tossed her onto the bed, everything changed.
He stood at the foot of it, chest rising with slow, deliberate breaths, eyes darkening as they travelled over her.
The laughter died on her lips.
That look… hungry, heated, possessive and pulled every bit of air from her lungs.
"Baby," he said slowly, voice dipping into that low, dangerous warmth that made her shiver, "you can't run from me now."
He climbed onto the bed, moving toward her like a predator whose patience was thinning.
"And who," he murmured, leaning closer, "told you to get out of this bed?"
Her pulse thundered.
I am not running away, not now! She wanted to tell him that but words couldn't come out of her mouth.
So she rose onto her knees, instinctively reaching for him, her body reacting before her mind caught up, drawn by the magnetic pull of his gaze, the intensity in his voice, the heat in his eyes.
Nathan's hands slid to her waist, anchoring her.
Her breath hitched, heart racing, as she whispered—
"Nathan…"
And she moved into his arms.
Nathan's grip on her waist tightened, pulling her flush against him. The heat of his body pressed into hers, every breath a reminder of how close they were, how little space remained between restraint and surrender. He replied with heat in his voice, "Yeah, baby?"
Her fingers curled into his shirt, tugging him closer, trembling with urgency she couldn't contain.
His lips hovered just above hers, teasing, denying, until she let out a desperate sound that broke the silence.
That was all it took.
His mouth claimed hers, fierce and consuming, each kiss a demand, each breath stolen. She melted into him, her laughter gone, replaced by gasps and shivers that betrayed how much she wanted this, how much she wanted him.
He shifted, guiding her back against the bed, his body caging hers in, his eyes burning with hunger that made her pulse race. His hands roamed her sides, slow but unrelenting, mapping her curves like he was memorizing every inch.
"Elena…" His voice was rough, strained, as if he was fighting himself even as he gave in. "You drive me insane."
Her hands slid up his chest, over his shoulders, pulling him down to her again. "Then, show me?" she whispered, breathless, daring.
The words shattered his restraint.
His kisses deepened, his touch grew bolder, and the air between them thickened with heat, with need, with the kind of hunger that left no room for escape.
Her breath tangled with his as she answered his kisses, almost matching his hunger, almost convincing herself she had control.
For a blink of a second she thought,if she was going too fast, but Nathan's hands on her back told a different story—firm, unyielding, pulling her closer until escape wasn't even a thought.
"You don't have the slightest idea," he murmured against her skin, voice rough, deliberate, "how long I've wanted this. To finally take what you've been holding back. To make you mine."
His mouth claimed her neck, sucking at the flesh until she gasped, biting just enough to remind her who was leading this moment. His hand cupped her breast, squeezing with precision that sent shivers down her spine, not letting her to think.
Her nails dug into his shoulders, her body arching, but he only chuckled low in his throat. "That's it," he whispered, biting his way lower, "don't fight me. Don't hide, good girl."
A small voice whispered: This is too much. Too fast.
But his praise—"Good girl"—drowned it out.
She wanted to say slow down,
but the words tangled with the heat,
and by the time she found them,
the moment had passed.
Part of her wanted to pull back,
to catch her breath,
to understand what was happening.
But he was already moving,
and stopping felt like disappointing him.
He tugged at her tank top, exposing her inch by inch, his eyes dark and possessive as he revealed her.
His mouth found her breast and her mind went blank—only sensation remained, sharp and overwhelming, until she couldn't remember why she'd ever felt shame about this.
Then he pulled back just enough to look at her, his gaze sharp, commanding.
"See what happens when you stop running?" he said softly, but the control beneath the softness was unmistakable. "This is mine. You're mine."
Nathan's grip on her waist tightened, pulling her closer, forcing her to feel the weight of him, the command in his touch.
"You don't know," he rasped against her throat, biting at the skin until she gasped, "how long I've waited to take this from you."
Take 'this' from me?
His hand slid higher, cupping her breast with deliberate precision, squeezing until shivers raced down her spine taking away any thoughts she had in her mind.
Her nails dug into his shoulders, her back arching, begging for more, but he only smirked against her skin.
"That's it, baby" he murmured smoothly, sucking at her neck, his voice low and dangerous. "Don't fight me. Don't hide. I want every sound you can't control. I want you to take all of my love."
Her moans spilled out, helpless, raw, and he drank them in like fuel.
He tugged her tank top down, exposing her inch by inch, his eyes darkening as he revealed her. His mouth closed over her breast, sucking hard, tongue circling until her head tipped back, eyes fluttering shut. She felt like she was completely at his mercy and he showed none.
Her body trembled, arching into him, and Nathan's chuckle vibrated against her skin.
"You see?" he whispered, biting gently before sucking again. "You can't run from this. From me. This is the future, I'm planning for you!"
Future, he's planning for me?
Her breath came in ragged gasps, her body trembling under his touch, but her mind couldn't catch up.
Nathan's lips brushed her ear, his voice low, deliberate.
"You feel that?" he murmured, squeezing her thigh just enough to make her shiver. "That's not me. That's you. Your body knows what it wants."
There was some lying under his tone but she couldn't grasp.
She whimpered, nails digging into his shoulders, her spine arching helplessly.
His hand slid higher, teasing, never giving her enough, always pulling back just before she could chase it.
"I could keep you like this all night," he whispered, biting gently at her neck. "Until I hear it. From you."
Her heart thundered, her breath breaking. She tried to control herself to not move, but her body betrayed her as it tried to pull him closer.
He stilled her with a smirk, eyes dark and unyielding.
"Say it," he coaxed, his tone soft but edged with hunger. "Tell me what you want. Tell me you want me."
There was some kind of command in it which made Elena's lips parted, trembling, the words caught between shame and need. Her body betrayed her, pressing into him, desperate for more.
"I… I want you," she whispered, the confession spilling out like a secret, she couldn't hold back.
Nathan's smile curved, slow and wicked, satisfaction flashing in his eyes.
"That's what I needed," he murmured, finally giving her the touch she'd been begging for without even realizing it.
Her fingers tightened reflexively, then loosened, trembling.
A rush of excitement and shame, ran through her body.
He didn't rush.
He held her gaze, watching the shock and hunger flicker across her face. A smirk appeared on his face.
"Good," he said, low and sure. He gave her hand a firmer guide, letting her feel the truth of his desire, then pulled back just enough to make her chase him. "Now tell me what you want me to do."
Her mind stuttered. Her body answered first—pressing into him, heat spiraling, instinct overriding thought.
"I want—" She faltered, a helpless sound escaping her. "I want you closer."
His smirk deepened, eyes darkening. "Closer is earned," he murmured. "Keep talking."
She drew in a shaky breath, pulse skittering. "Touch me."
"Where?" he asked, voice patient in a way that wasn't patience at all.
She trembled, unable to hide. "Where ever you want."
A shock rang in her mind as it registered she said it to him out loud.
He chuckled, a soft, dangerous sound against her ear. "That's the honesty I've been waiting for."
Then he moved—slow, consuming—giving just enough to make her gasp, withholding just enough to make her beg.
And every time she spoke, every time she named what she wanted, he rewarded her with more.
She kept her hand there, the motion small and uncertain, and his breath hitched into a low, involuntary sound. He let it out, half moan, half warning.
"Elena," he murmured against her skin, voice ragged, "we're going too deep. I won't be able to stop if you keep this up." His tone sounded like there was only the last thread of careful control left. "You're still not strong enough. I don't want to hurt you tonight. Tell me to stop."
Her fingers trembled. She tried to steady her breath, to obey the word that would give her back a sliver of control, but the heat between them made steadying impossible.
She faltered, caught between the urgent needs of her body and the clearer, smaller voice that wanted to be safe.
Nathan watched her struggle and let out a low chuckle that wasn't unkind. "You're not helping me, darling," he said, amusement threaded with the old hunger.
She felt ashamed, something in her shifted then—less from thought than from the soft command in his voice. Her hand moved away, awkward and slow, like learning to let go.
He took the motion as an answer, not a defeat.
He settled beside her, limbs easing into a different kind of closeness. Arms wrapped around her, not crushing but possessive; his hands still roamed, but more landing, anchoring than driving. Like he wanted to calm her down. Her mind still in the blur of the moment.
For a while they lay quiet, breath shared in the soft dark, the earlier blaze dwindling to coals under careful watch.
Elena felt him pull her closer until the world narrowed to the rise and fall of his chest.
His eyes closed; the tension in his jaw loosened. She listened to the sound of him breathing and to the steady drum of her own pulse calming.
A small, unexpected noise—her stomach—broke the hush. She laughed, a short, sheepish sound that slid out of her like light.
Nathan's mouth lifted. "Let's order food," he suggested, his voice almost casual.
The moment was ordinary and precise, a careful tether back to the mundane.
It made her confused. How can he sound so casual after such a heated session a few moments ago.
She nodded, the spell between them shifting into something more complicated: safety negotiated, desire paused.
And a line drawn that only one of them fully saw.
Elena nodded, reaching for her phone.
But her hands were still shaking.
And she couldn't tell if it was from desire,
or fear,
or something she didn't have a name for yet.
Later, as they ate in comfortable silence,
Elena told herself, maybethis was what intimacy looked like.
Giving in.
Letting go.
Trusting someone enough to stop thinking.
Because she didn't have any experience otherwise.
She pushed away the small voice that whispered:
Or maybe losing yourself?