The Stranger I Married-Chapter 59: Cruel punishment

Nicholas returned minutes later, holding a glass of water, the muscles in his forearm flexing as he handed it to her. His jaw was set tight, like he was still wrestling with himself, but his eyes—God, those eyes—were softer now, tinted with something almost tender.

Ella took the glass gratefully, her hands still trembling faintly from everything that had just happened. As she drank, he hovered nearby, folding his arms across his broad chest, watching her carefully like she might fall apart at any second.

But she didn’t. Instead, when she set the glass down on the side table, she lifted her gaze to his, steady and sure.

"Stay," she whispered.

His brow lifted. "I’m not going anywhere."

She shook her head, a small smile curling her lips. "No. I mean here. With me. Sleep with me."

The sharp flicker of amusement in his eyes was immediate, his mouth twitching into a slow, wicked grin. "Ella," he drawled, his voice going low and dangerous, "you’re playing a dangerous game."

She rolled her eyes, feeling heat flood her cheeks but refusing to back down. "Don’t be dramatic. I just want you to sleep next to me. What’s the point of marrying a man if I don’t even get to steal his warmth at night?"

His grin widened, teeth flashing. "Ah," he hummed, stepping closer, his hand bracing on the edge of the console near her hip. "Now you remember you’re my wife."

Ella fought the urge to lean into him again. "Convenient, isn’t it?"

"Very," he said softly. "But... you’ll have to convince me, Mrs. Carter."

"Convince you?" she echoed, brows lifting. "You want a presentation? PowerPoint slides? A written essay?"

He laughed under his breath, teeth sinking into his bottom lip as he studied her like she was the most entertaining thing he’d seen all day. "Mm, not quite what I had in mind."

Her pulse skipped when he leaned in, brushing his knuckles down her jaw with infuriating gentleness. "Try again."

She narrowed her eyes at him, biting down a smile, determined not to let him win their little game. "Don’t you think you owe it to me after nearly making me combust against the wall like some kind of Victorian scandal?"

He let out a low, rough chuckle, the sound curling hot and slow down her spine. "Victorian scandal, huh? You make it sound like I ravished you in a drawing room."

"You almost did," she shot back, lifting her chin, though the color blooming in her cheeks betrayed her.

Nicholas hummed appreciatively, brushing his thumb over her bottom lip in that same soft, maddening way that drove her crazy. "Almost isn’t good enough," he murmured. "When I finally have you, Ella... trust me, you won’t be using words like almost."

Her stomach flipped violently, knees going weak again just from his voice alone.

But instead of giving in to the heat flickering between them, she shoved his chest lightly, glaring at him through her flushed cheeks. "You’re impossible."

"True," he agreed, clearly pleased with himself. "But devastatingly handsome, which I think makes up for it."

She huffed a laugh despite herself.

"I’m getting you out of that gown," he added suddenly, straightening.

Her mouth fell open. "You’re what?"

"Relax," he smirked. "Not for anything fun—though trust me, I’m suffering. But that thing looks like a corset disguised as clothing. You need to breathe, sweetheart."

Without waiting for another protest, his hands went to the back of her dress, fingers making quick work of the zipper. His knuckles brushed down the line of her spine, making her shiver.

"This isn’t fair," she muttered as the fabric loosened, exposing more of her skin to the cool air—and his burning gaze. "You’re making me vulnerable just to torment me."

"It’s not torment if you like it," he teased, dropping the strap off her shoulder with deliberate slowness. "And besides, I’m going to be a gentleman. I’m going to take a shower in my room before I come back to continue tormenting you properly."

Ella shot him a look. "You’re terrible."

"Terribly charming, you mean." His lips brushed her bare shoulder lightly before he stepped back, eyes glittering with mischief. "Don’t miss me too much."

And with that, he turned and sauntered toward the room, leaving her breathless, disheveled, and entirely too aware of every nerve ending in her body screaming for more of him.

By the time he came back, it seemed she had also taken a shower. Her hair was down, loose waves falling around her shoulders, and she’d pulled on a set of soft, light pajamas—shorts and a fitted tank, the kind designed for comfort but that managed to hug her curves just right without meaning to.

When Nicholas stopped in the doorway, towel slung around his neck, damp hair curling slightly at the ends, he froze.

"Are you trying to kill me?" he asked, voice dark and rough again, eyes sweeping down her body and lingering on her bare legs. "Because it’s working."

Ella blinked at him innocently. "What? These are my pajamas."

He gave her a slow, appreciative once-over that made her skin heat all over again. "You could’ve worn flannel. Or—better—one of those ridiculous oversized shirts."

She smirked, leaning back on her palms, tilting her head just enough to look smug. "I thought you were a gentleman."

"I am," he said, moving toward her with that lethal grace of his. "But I’m also a man. And this—" his fingers hooked lazily into the waistband of her shorts "—is cruel and unusual punishment."

Her heart thundered, but she forced herself to smirk. "You said you’d sleep next to me."

"I said you had to convince me," he corrected, voice dropping lower as his thumb brushed her bare hip. "Congratulations. Consider me convinced."

With a gentle tug, he coaxed her backward toward the bed, guiding her like she was something precious. His teasing softened as they moved, the mischief giving way to something warmer. More careful.

When she lay back, he followed, sliding beside her, propping himself on his elbow so he could keep looking at her.

"I’m going to behave," he murmured, thumb stroking absentminded circles along her thigh. "Even if it kills me."

Ella smiled, brushing a damp curl back from his forehead. "Good. Because I like having you here."

His eyes softened, the wickedness melting into something raw and real. "Yeah?" he murmured.

"Yeah."

Silence fell between them again, this time gentle, comfortable. The world outside didn’t exist anymore—not the ache of the past, not the threat of tomorrow. Just the two of them, tangled up together in something that wasn’t quite spoken yet, but already felt like the beginning of something neither of them was ready to admit.

Nicholas leaned down, brushing a soft kiss to her temple before whispering, "Sleep, sweetheart. Dream about me"