CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
NATHAN
I COULD GET used to this.
No restless churn in my chest, no sharp sting behind my eyes from another night of broken sleep, just the quiet hum of morning. For a moment, I didn’t move. I laid there, staring at the ceiling, feeling the weight of the woman curled into me.
Elise.
It wasn’t just the way she looked in my bed, though God, that was something. The dark material of my shirt had risen and stopped just below her ass, her hair spilled across the pillow, a dark, tangled halo that smelled faintly of mangoes.
I let myself look at her without the burden of words or performance.
She didn’t belong here in the way my sterile penthouse usually demanded things belong.
Elise was softness in the middle of my sharp edges.
She didn’t blend in, didn’t disappear into the background like the muted grays of my furniture. She illuminated it.
She looked at ease here. At home.
The thought tugged at the corner of my mind, but I pushed it down before it could unravel me. Because the truth was, I liked waking up to this. To her. And maybe that scared the hell out of me more than anything.
I could have stayed like that forever, but the clock on the nightstand taunted me with reality.
Work. Meetings. A schedule that didn’t care if I’d finally managed more than three consecutive hours of sleep.
With a sigh, I slid carefully from the bed, reluctant to leave her warmth behind, careful not to wake her, and padded toward the bathroom.
The bathroom lights flicked on, glaring too bright against the early hour.
I ignored the reflection staring back at me in the mirror and headed for the shower.
Moments later, steam clung to the mirror as I swiped a hand across the glass, revealing my reflection.
Water still dripped down the back of my neck, running in slow rivulets along my shoulders, and the towel around my waist clung low against my hips.
I was bent over the sink when the door eased open. “Nathan?”
Her voice was soft, still husky with sleep, and it did something to me that no amount of coffee could replicate. I glanced over my shoulder, and there she was, framed in the doorway in one of my black t-shirts, the hem skimming the tops of her thighs.
I swallowed, suddenly parched. “Morning.”
She padded in, her bare feet whispering against the tile, and leaned against the counter beside me. “How are you feeling?”
I gave a short nod, reaching for the razor. “Better.”
She crossed the bathroom to me, her hand brushing my forearm. “Are you sure about me being here? I mean, everything’s been moving so fast since Louisiana. If you want space, or—”
“No.” The word is sharp and immediate. I set the razor down and looked at her fully, needing her to hear it. “I want you here, Elise. I’ve never been more sure of anything.”
Her expression softens, and her gaze drifts to the sink. Her brows lifted. “Shaving already?”
“Routine,” I said simply.
Something mischievous sparked in her gaze. “What if I did it for you?”
I blinked, caught off guard. “You want to shave me?”
She bit her lip, suppressing a grin. “Why not? Unless you don’t trust me with a razor near your throat.”
I should have said no. But with her standing there, hair messy, wearing my shirt like it was hers, her eyes shining with challenge, I found myself nodding. “Fine.”
Elise moved to stand in front of me and I lifted her and placed her on top of the sink.
She took her time spreading shaving cream along my jaw with deliberate, featherlight strokes.
Her thumb was steady against my chin. The intimacy of it startled me.
I’d had people tend to me before—barbers, stylists, but never like this.
Never with such tender concentration, as though this small act was a privilege.
“Hold still,” she murmured.
“Bossy,” I muttered.
She smirked, her gaze flicking up to mine. “I learned from the best.”
The razor glided smoothly over my skin, her hand guiding the angle, her body pressed lightly into me as she leaned forward to reach.
I rested my hands on either side of her thighs.
When she stretched a little more, I couldn’t help it.
I slid my palms along the backs of her legs and tugged her gently onto the edge of the counter.
Her breath hitched, but she didn’t stop. Now she was perched on the sink, knees bracketing my hips, and I trapped her fully between my legs, holding her there. She steadied the razor with impressive composure, but I didn’t miss the way her cheeks flushed, or the way her thighs tightened against me.
“You’re distracting me,” she said, her voice low.
“That’s the point.”
Her mouth curved, though she bit it back quickly, focusing again on the careful scrape of the blade. When she finished the last line along my jaw, she dipped the razor in the sink and set it aside, then wiped the excess cream from my face with a towel.
Her touch lingered longer than necessary.
“All done,” she whispered.
I caught her wrist before she could pull away, pressing her palm flat against my cheek. My stubble was gone, skin smooth beneath her fingers, and for some reason the look of pride, tenderness, and possession in her eyes undid me more than anything else could have.
“Thank you,” I said, softer than I intended.
Her expression melted. She leaned in, brushing her lips against mine in a kiss that tasted like the sweetness of morning. “You’re welcome.”
Elise made a move to hop down from the counter but instead I wrapped an arm around her waist, effortlessly lifting her up from the sink and carrying her back to the bedroom before sitting her gently on the bed.
“What are your plans today?” I asked as I adjusted my cufflinks, nearly completely dressed for work.
She wrinkled her nose playfully. “Oh, you know… shake my ass for thousands of people on the internet.”
I groaned, both exasperated and completely turned on. “Elise.”
“Fine.” She smirked. “Pack for my trip home.”
“Better.” I kissed her again, slower this time, and pulled back just enough to rest my forehead against hers.
Her laugh was light, teasing, and far too addictive for this early in the morning.
I kissed her once more, intending for it to be quick, but Elise had other plans.
She tangled her fingers in my shirt, refusing to let me go, kissing me with the kind of insistence that made every rational thought scatter.
“Keep this up and I’ll never make it to the office,” I murmured against her lips.
“Maybe that’s the point,” she whispered, her smile curving against my mouth like she knew exactly how impossible she was to resist.
I lingered longer than I should have, memorizing the way she looked sprawled across the sheets, hair a mess from sleep and my hands, lips kiss-swollen, eyes hazy but bright.
The kind of vision a man could build a religion around.
And I was supposed to walk away from this for spreadsheets and people I didn’t give half a damn about?
Dragging myself upright, I forced my body to move toward the door, even though every instinct screamed to stay. Elise sat back on her heels watching me with that smug little smile like she knew I’d rather crawl back into bed. She wasn’t wrong.
“I’ll be good today,” she promised sweetly, though the sparkle in her eyes said otherwise.
I adjusted my cufflinks, smoothed down my tie, and gave her one last look. “I don't believe you.”
She laughed, and the sound chased me all the way to the elevator.
By the time I stepped into my car, I already hated how far away she was. My day hadn’t even started, and I was counting the hours until I could come home to her.