Page 35 of Nicky

The corner of my mouth twitched. Ridiculous, really, how he could be so solid and commanding one moment and soft the next.

“Morning,” I murmured, unsure if he’d hear it.

A low, sleepy hum escaped him. His grip tightened slightly before he rolled away, stretching out and sitting up. The bed dipped with his movement, the warmth of him slipping away like sand through my fingers.

The room felt colder without him near me.

He rubbed a hand over his face, muttering something under his breath, and then he glanced my way, his expression shifting into something polite. Too polite.

“Did you sleep okay?”

I pushed myself up, propping on one elbow, watching him carefully. “Better than I have in... well, ages, honestly.”

He nodded, his gaze flicking away, landing somewhere near the edge of the bed.

The knot in my chest tightened. Something was off.

“What about you?”

He stood, pulling on a pair of sweats from a nearby chair, his movements slower than they had been last night, like he was lost in thought. “Yes, I’m fine.”

Fine. That useless, empty word. Fine never actually meant fine. I’d used that word so many times in my twenty-four years, I knew that to be true.

My stomach sank. This was the part where I got booted, wasn’t it?

The rational part of me knew it wasn’t fair to jump to conclusions, but years of practice had trained me to read the signs. Politeness, distance, a carefully neutral tone—it all screamed one thing: time to go.

I swung my legs over the side of the bed, reaching for my jeans. “I’ll get out of your hair.”

Markus turned sharply, his brows knitting together. “What?”

“I get it,” I snapped, yanking my jeans on. “No need to do the whole awkward morning-after thing. You’ve been a perfect gentleman, and now I’ll make this easy for you.”

“Nicky.” His voice softened, but I wasn’t in the mood to hear it.

I reached for my shirt, my fingers clenching the fabric. “No hard feelings, really. Thanks for... whatever this was.”

The bed creaked as he moved closer. Before I could react, his hand was on my arm, firm but gentle, stopping me.

“Why are you leaving?”

I blinked, his question catching me off guard. “Because... you obviously want me to.”

His brow furrowed deeper, confusion flashing in his eyes. “What gave you that idea?”

I gestured toward him vaguely. “The way you’re acting. Distant. Polite. Like you’re trying to figure out how to let me down easy.”

He sighed, his shoulders relaxing as his grip on my arm loosened. “Nicky, that’s not—no. That’s not what’s happening.”

I folded my arms, defensive even as my heart tugged at the sincerity in his tone. “Then what is it?”

Markus hesitated, his gaze searching mine. “I was... in my head. Trying to figure out how to ask you to stay without sounding desperate.”

I froze, the words sinking in slowly. “You... want me to stay?”

“Yes.” He stepped closer, his hand trailing down my arm before his fingers brushed mine. “I do.”

My defenses wavered, the softness in his voice undoing me. “Oh.”

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