Lewis’s cool palm brushed over my burning cheeks, slow and gentle. The contrast made sigh without aning to. I was still floating sowhere between sleep and waking, my thoughts soft and ssy.
"Why are you looking at like that?" I mumbled, barely opening my eyes.
He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he took my hand, his fingers warm and steady, and guided it toward his waist. His voice dropped, low and teasing, vibrating straight through .
"Didn’t you want to check sothing earlier?"
It took a second for my mind to catch up. Then I rembered the car. His legs. The questions I hadn’t stopped thinking about.
"Oh..." I murmured.
I tried to sit up, but my body betrayed . The room tilted, and I fell forward. Lewis caught instantly, like he’d been waiting for it. One arm supported my back, the other locked around my waist, holding close. Too close.
His eyes softened as he looked down at . There was sothing heavy there. Sothing old.
"Elena," he said quietly, "I’ve waited a long ti for this."
My heart skipped, confused. His words felt deeper than the mont, like they carried a aning I couldn’t quite reach. But my head was too foggy to chase it.
I reached for his belt again, clumsy and curious, but my stomach suddenly twisted hard.
"I... I don’t feel good..." I groaned.
His whole posture changed. The teasing vanished, replaced by sharp concern. "Tell what you need."
"I think I’m going to "
I didn’t finish.
Everything ca up, right onto him.
For one frozen second, he didn’t move. His body went completely still, like he was processing the shock. I waited for anger. Disgust. Anything.
None ca.
Instead, his hand rubbed slow circles on my back, steady and grounding, like this was nothing at all.
"It’s alright," he murmured. "I’ve got you."
I barely registered him making a quiet call, asking soone to take care of the ss. My head was pounding, my limbs weak. Before I knew it, he lifted again and carried to the bathroom like I weighed nothing.
When he set down, I glanced at our stained clothes and grimaced. "I feel awful... and gross."
Without thinking, I started peeling my clothes off, desperate to feel clean. Lewis imdiately turned away, his back stiff, giving space even though instinct scread he wanted to look.
That annoyed more than it should have.
"Why are you still wearing that?" I asked, wobbling toward him. "Take it off."
He glanced back, cautious, eyes dark. "Are you sure?"
I smiled, slow and lazy, and nudged him toward the wall. "You took care of . Let do the sa."
He studied for a long mont, like he was deciding whether to give in or hold the line. Sothing sharp flickered in his gaze before he finally said, rough and low, "Alright."
I reached up and started unbuttoning his shirt, one button at a ti. My fingers weren’t steady, but I took my ti anyway. As the fabric parted, warm skin t my touch. Smooth. Firm. Hidden strength beneath calm control.
He inhaled sharply when my fingers brushed his chest.
"Elena," he warned softly, catching my wrist, "don’t."
"But you feel too nice," I whispered, honest and unfiltered.
That was it.
He pulled in, his arms closing around like he’d claid the space itself. His kiss was deep, warm, and full of restraint stretched thin. Not rushed. Not careless. It made my knees weak.
The shower turned on above us, warm water pouring down, steam filling the room. The world shrank to heat, breath, and the steady hold of his arms around . His presence wrapped around completely, protective and demanding all at once.
I clung to him, fingers working the rest of his shirt free, my heart racing as instinct and emotion tangled together.
After everything settled, Lewis helped clean up with quiet care. I sat on the edge of the bed in a soft robe, the fabric warm against my skin. My hair was still damp, sticking to my neck. I watched him walk across the room, my eyes following him without thinking, like I felt safest when he stayed in sight.
The room had already been set right again. Fresh sheets. Clean air. A faint floral scent that cald sothing restless inside . The lights were low, the kind that made the walls feel closer, like the space itself was protecting us.
Lewis ca back carrying a folded nightgown and clean clothes. He stopped in front of , his presence steady, grounding.
"Do you need help?" he asked softly.
The robe’s hood had slipped over my head, strands of hair falling into my eyes. I looked up at him and smiled, a little playful, a little lazy. "Will you help ?" I asked, using that teasing title again, knowing it annoyed him.
He sighed, half amused, half warning. "Don’t call that."
I pretended to think about it. "Alright," I said lightly. "Then... Honey?"
That did it. He shook his head, but a smile tugged at his lips. His hand brushed my hair, slow and familiar, like he was reminding himself I was real. "You really enjoy testing ," he said. "If you knew what my instincts were saying right now, you’d stop smiling like that."
I laughed softly and opened my robe just a little, not to shock him, just to tease. "I’m clean now. I even sll nice."
He let out a low breath, the kind that sounded like restraint. "You’re dangerous," he muttered. Still, he didn’t touch the way I was daring him to. Instead, he helped into the nightgown with careful hands, like I was sothing precious, not sothing to claim.
Once I was dressed, he stepped back and said, "Sleep. You’ve had enough excitent for one night."
He disappeared into the bathroom again. I didn’t ask why. The bed felt too warm. Too inviting. I curled under the blankets, my body heavy, my thoughts slow.
At so point, the mattress dipped. Strong arms wrapped around , familiar and safe. I moved closer without thinking, fitting against him like it was natural, like so quiet bond had already been sealed.
"Honey," I murmured, half asleep.
His arm tightened just a little, protective, possessive in a way that felt right.
Then the world faded, and I slept.
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