Page 57 of His To Unravel
In these moments, my mind drifts back to past relationships—the ones that never quite fit, where I felt like I was trying to mold myself into someone I wasn’t just to feel wanted.
I think of the compromises I’ve made, the way I’ve always downplayed parts of myself, the things I’ve kept hidden. But with Nathaniel, there’s none of that. There’s only this sense of being wholly seen, of feeling cherished in ways I didn’t know were possible.
It’s an awakening, really, realizing that he doesn’t want aversionof me; he just wants…me. For the first time, I feel truly desired, deeply fulfilled, and inexplicably beautiful in my own skin.
And as I sink deeper into his embrace, I know one thing for certain: I don’t want this feeling to end.
The lightfrom the setting sun filters through the sheer curtains, casting a warm, golden glow across Nathaniel’s bedroom.
I lie nestled against Nathaniel’s chest, feeling the slow rise and fall of his breathing, his arm wrapped around me like an anchor. There’s a comforting rhythm to it, a steady cadence that matches the ease of our weekend together.
We stay that way, wrapped in warmth and silence, and I press closer, trying to commit this to memory—his scent, his heat, the unspoken promise in the way he holds me. It’s a feeling of completion, one I didn’t realize I was missing until now.
“Wasn’t this weekend perfect?” His voice, low and rich, rumbles against my ear.
I smile, my hand tracing idle patterns along his side. “It was,” I murmur. “More than perfect.” The words feel soft and true, as though they’ve found their way out of my heart without conscious thought.
There’s a pause, a weight to the silence that follows. Then, as ifhe’s been holding back the words all day, he says, “You know…it could be like this every day.”
The statement startles a laugh from me before I can stop myself. “Nathaniel, you can’t be serious. It’s way too soon to talk about me moving in. We’ve only spent one weekend together!”
But he doesn’t share my amusement; instead, his expression shifts, a flicker of irritation shadowing his eyes. “Too soon?” he repeats, his voice dangerously level. “It’s only too soon because you’ve decided it is.”
I sit up slightly, catching the first signs of strain between us.
His face is carefully composed, but there’s a tightness around his jaw, a restraint that makes me realize he’s genuinely hurt. I reach out, brushing a hand along his shoulder in an attempt to soften the moment.
“Nathaniel, it’s not that I don’t…want this. I do. But I just need time to be sure, to know this isn’t just”—I hesitate, searching for the words—“some infatuation.”
His gaze sharpens, his fingers tightening slightly around my waist. “Infatuation?I’d like to think I’m more than just a weekend indulgence, Olivia.” His tone sends a shiver through me, riding the line between allure and unease.
I shake my head quickly. “That’s not what I meant. It’s just…” I struggle to explain, feeling the weight of his eyes on me, a silent insistence that’s hard to shake. “I’ve spent so long doing things on my own, it’s hard to just let that go overnight.”
He’s quiet for a long moment, his gaze unwavering. “I thought you felt it too, how right this is,” he says finally, his voice softer but no less forceful.
There’s a pang in my chest at his words, a sense of guilt mingling with the affection I still feel for him. He has a way of making me feel treasured, yes, but there’s something else too—a need that feels like it’s teetering on the edge of control. Andthough it thrills me, there’s a part of me that hesitates, that wants to keep some semblance of myself untouched.
Taking a breath, I place a trembling hand against his cheek, trying to bridge the gap between us. “Nathaniel, I’m not dismissing what we have.” I manage a small smile, hoping it’ll ease the frustration simmering in his gaze. “I’m just asking for a little time to catch my breath. Please.”
He searches my face, and after a moment, the tightness in his shoulders eases, his hand sliding up my back to pull me close. “All right,” he says, though his tone holds an undercurrent that’s hard to ignore. “But don’t take too long.”
I nod, letting my fingers drift down to rest over his heart, feeling its steady beat beneath my palm.
The moment softens, but the tension remains, an unspoken question hanging between us. I know what he wants—what he’s made abundantly clear—but something in me still holds back, hesitant to lose myself completely, even as every other part of me craves the security he offers.
As we settle back into the silence, his arms encircling me once more, I close my eyes, feeling the comfort of his warmth while my thoughts swirl in quiet contemplation.
His desire for permanence is thrilling, yes, but it also frightens me in a way I can’t quite articulate. And yet, I find myself wondering: Is my reluctance truly about independence…or am I simply afraid of how deeply he’s already woven himself into my life?
While we remain cocooned in Nathaniel’s bed, the room dims as dusk settles over the city outside.
His fingers trace mindless patterns along my arm, a soothing motion that makes me feel like I could drift into sleep, perfectly at peace. But then he shifts, his gaze intent, fixed on me in a way that suggests something heavier on his mind.
“Tell me something,” he begins, his voice low, cautious—something I’m not used to from him. “The others you’ve beenwith before me… Were any of them ever able to make you feel like this?”
The question catches me off guard, a hint of insecurity breaking through his otherwise confident facade. It’s strange to think that someone as self-assured as Nathaniel could feel even the slightest hint of uncertainty, especially over me.
“No,” I say softly, but his expression doesn’t shift, as if he’s not entirely convinced. “Nate, you know that.” I reach up, resting my hand on his cheek, sensing his internal unrest, a vulnerability that’s uncharacteristic but unmistakable. “I’ve never felt this way before.”
