Chapter 107: Intimate

Lewis’s cool palm brushed over my burning cheeks, slow and gentle. The contrast made me sigh without meaning to. I was still floating somewhere between sleep and waking, my thoughts soft and messy.

“Why are you looking at me 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 me.

“Didn’t you want to check something earlier?”

It took a second for my mind to catch up. Then I remembered the car. His legs. The questions I hadn’t stopped thinking about.

“Oh…” I murmured.

I tried to sit up, but my body betrayed me. The room tilted, and I fell forward. Lewis caught me instantly, like he’d been waiting for it. One arm supported my back, the other locked around my waist, holding me close. Too close.

His eyes softened as he looked down at me. There was something heavy there. Something old.

“Elena,” he said quietly, “I’ve waited a long time for this.”

My heart skipped, confused. His words felt deeper than the moment, like they carried a meaning 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 me what you need.”

“I think I’m going to ”

I didn’t finish.

Everything came 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 came.

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 someone to take care of the mess. My head was pounding, my limbs weak. Before I knew it, he lifted me again and carried me to the bathroom like I weighed nothing.

When he set me 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 immediately turned away, his back stiff, giving me space even though instinct screamed he wanted to look.

That annoyed me 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 me. Let me do the same.”

He studied me for a long moment, like he was deciding whether to give in or hold the line. Something 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 time. My fingers weren’t steady, but I took my time anyway. As the fabric parted, warm skin met 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 me in, his arms closing around me like he’d claimed 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 me. His presence wrapped around me 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 me 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 calmed something restless inside me. The lights were low, the kind that made the walls feel closer, like the space itself was protecting us.

Lewis came back carrying a folded nightgown and clean clothes. He stopped in front of me, 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 me?” I asked, using that teasing title again, knowing it annoyed him.

He sighed, half amused, half warning. “Don’t call me 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 me,” 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 smell nice.”

He let out a low breath, the kind that sounded like restraint. “You’re dangerous,” he muttered. Still, he didn’t touch me the way I was daring him to. Instead, he helped me into the nightgown with careful hands, like I was something precious, not something to claim.

Once I was dressed, he stepped back and said, “Sleep. You’ve had enough excitement 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 some point, the mattress dipped. Strong arms wrapped around me, familiar and safe. I moved closer without thinking, fitting against him like it was natural, like some 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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