Page 25 of near

A few minutes pass by before Elijah returns while I still nip at my water.

He gestures towards the bathroom. “You can freshen up now if you like. Everything you need should be there. If not, ask. I’ll be here.”

“Thanks.” I take another sip of my water before setting it down and making my way into the bathroom. As promised, everything that I could need is here. Towels, toothpaste, shampoo, and body wash.

I take a quick shower and brush my teeth before stepping out in a big loose shirt, which was placed right next to the sink. His lips curve up into a smile as he sees me.

“I like you in my shirt.”

“It’s soft.” I play with the hem of the shirt while tiptoeing in his direction.

In front of the bed, I pause. It’s big. Should I curl up next to him? Stick to my side?

“Come here.” He pulls the blanket aside, tapping the place right beside him.

Submitting to his request, I get on the bed, leaving some space between us.

However, he has other plans. Without warning, his arms wrap around me, pulling me to his body, my back against his chest.

It feels good. A satisfied sigh escapes my lips as I press myself further into him. Warm. Safe.

Staying was the right decision.

He nuzzles into my neck, his hand gliding up and down my side in a soothing caress. Safe and sated, my eyes drift shut.

The morning sun wakes me. For a moment, I’m disoriented. Then I feel the warmth of a body pressed against my back, an arm draped over my waist, and breath tickling the back of my neck. Elijah.

I sink back into the comfort of his arms. A delicious ache pulses between my thighs as my memories resurface. The raw passion in his voice when he whispered my name was like a reverent prayer. The way he touched, kissed, and held me. My cheeks flush at how thoroughly he ravished me.

He stirs behind me, tightening his grip. Is he awake? I hold my breath, waiting for him to wake, but his breathing evens out again.

I turn around to study his expression. My fingers trace the contours of his firm jaw, the stubble rough against my fingertips. Relaxed and peaceful.

Completely different to yesterday, where he had unleashed a fire within me, something Oliver never managed to do. Not once during our several years of marriage did I experience the bone-melting pleasure Elijah gave me last night.

He made me feel alive again. Desired and cherished.

Too cherished. He’s too good, and the only explanation for that is that he’s a playboy with regular one-night stands. He probably does this all the time—charming women off their feet, giving them a night they will never forget, and then moving on to the next. I’m just another notch on his bedpost. I shouldn’t interpret anything into this.

Again, Elijah shifts beside me. But his eyes remain closed.

I should leave now before he wakes. But I can’t tear myself away from him.

Maybe a few more minutes?

No. I can’t.

Careful not to disturb him, I slip out from under his arm, holding still until he settles back into sleep with a soft grunt. I drink in the sight of his bare, muscular chest and tousled black hair splayed across the pillow.

Let’s go.

The carpet muffles my footsteps as I slip back into the little black dress and pick up my heels.

I pause in the doorway for one last glance at Elijah. He seems peaceful like this, with the usual intensity in his brows softened by sleep.

“Thanks for the night, but we better forget each other. You’re not the relationship type,” I pause, “and I’m still too hurt.”

I tiptoe out into the hallway. The rest of the apartment is as sleek and minimal as the bedroom, with sharp lines and dark tones. What kind of man is he? His house seems very…. detached.

---