Chapter 27 Chapter Twenty-seven
Elena's POV
"Wait!" He stops, "I want you..." His eyes bulge, staring at me in confusion. I shake my head, biting my lower lip, as his attention was on my face and that familiar intense look that always makes me feel weird and needy. Desiring things I've no idea what they felt like. But then his stare turned into something else, and I lowered my gaze, knowing that he had misinterpreted my words. “I mean… I’ll need something to change into after I bathe,” I said softly, suddenly aware of how exposed the request sounded. “I didn’t bring anything with me.”
His expression barely changed, but his nod was immediate. “I’ll be right back.” Before I could say anything else, he turned and left, already speaking into his phone as he moved out of the room and down the corridor. I exhaled slowly, relieved and strangely disappointed all at once.
I don't even understand myself. I strip slowly from my clothes as I walk into the bathroom. The steam curled around me like a living thing, clinging to my skin, fogging the mirrors until the world outside the bath disappeared. I leaned back against the smooth marble, closing my eyes as warm water slid over my shoulders and down my spine. For the first time all day, my thoughts slowed. The city, the tension, the constant weight of being watched gone. The annoying behavior of Arabella and Rafael, all gone. I didn't even think about that asshole and his stupid secretary. It was just me and the heat and the steady rhythm of my breathing.
I let myself enjoy it longer than I should have.
The water soothed places I hadn’t realized were aching, unwinding knots buried deep in my muscles. I ran my hands over my arms, my neck, my hair slick and heavy down my back. The steam wrapped me in a cocoon, and for a few fragile minutes, I felt safe.
When I finally turned the water off, the sudden cool air raised goosebumps along my skin. I stepped out carefully, droplets trailing down my legs as I reached for the towel
And froze.
The rack was empty. How could I forget, this isn't my room where my towel is always at the rack.
I stared at it, blinking as if a towel might magically appear if I looked hard enough. Nothing. No towel. No robe. Just damp air and my own reflection, blurred and vulnerable in the fogged mirror.
“Great,” I muttered under my breath.
I wrapped my arms around myself, heart picking up its pace. I was certain I could get one in the room. Certain. But certainty didn’t help me now. The bathroom door was only a few steps away. The bedroom beyond it should be empty. Nikolai had walked away, and I didn't hear the door sound again, probably, he is not back yet. Hopefully, before he returned, I must have gotten one. I'm sure, one must be lying somewhere.
I swallowed.
I moved quickly, cracking the bathroom door open just enough to peek out. The room looked quiet. Empty. Relief loosened my chest. I stepped out, intending to hurry to the dresser, grab something, anything. Hopefully, I could find one.
The door pulled open suddenly.
I gasped, breath catching painfully as my gaze collided with his.
Nikolai stood there, phone pressed to his ear, mid-step into the room. His lips parted in shock, his expression going completely blank as his eyes dropped before snapping back up. Too late.
The towel and folded pajamas he was holding slipped from his hands, hitting the floor in a soft, useless heap.
For a split second, neither of us moved.
Time fractured.
Heat rushed to my face as instinct took over. I lunged for the bed, yanking the sheet free and wrapping it around myself, clutching the fabric to my chest like it was the only thing keeping me upright.
“Oh... Shit!” Nikolai cursed and turned sharply, his back to me in an instant. “Not you..." I guess he was talking to whoever was on the phone. "I’m sorry. I didn’t... I thought...”
His voice was strained, tight with embarrassment. I heard him end the call abruptly, the quiet click echoing far too loudly in the room.
“I didn’t know you were out of the bathroom,” he continued, still facing the wall. “I was just...”
“It’s fine,” I said quickly, though my heart was hammering so hard I could feel it in my throat.
He bent down, scooping up the fallen towel and clothes without turning around. I watched the movement of his shoulders, the tension in them, the way his hands weren’t quite steady.
He was about to leave.
“Nikolai,” I called out before I could stop myself.
He paused.
“Yes?” His voice was cautious.
“You… you’re leaving with the clothes.”
There was a beat of silence.
Then, softly, almost helplessly, “Right. Of course. I’m sorry.”
He turned just enough to extend the towel and pajamas toward me, his gaze firmly fixed somewhere over my shoulder, on the far wall, anywhere but me. His ears were faintly red, and the sight made something flutter in my chest.
I reached out, careful not to brush his fingers. The towel was warm, like it had been resting against him.
“Thank you,” I murmured.
“I’ll... Ahem..." He cleared his throat. “Just let me know when you are done.”
And then he was gone, the door closing behind him with quiet finality.
I let out a shaky breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.
My hands trembled as I dried myself, the towel dragging slowly over my skin as adrenaline faded, leaving something far more dangerous in its wake, awareness. Awareness of how close he had been. Awareness of the way his eyes had darkened before he’d looked away. Awareness of my own racing pulse. This was just like the morning, I woke up, remembering how I kissed him.
I slipped into the pajamas, fabric far too big for me, the shirt brushing my thighs. The moment I pulled it over my head, his scent surrounded me. Clean, sharp, unmistakably Nikolai. His cologne and something deeper filled my nostrils. It felt like I was wrapped in his arms.
I inhaled before I could stop myself.
My heart skipped. He smells nice.
Get it together, Elena.
I smoothed the shirt down, squared my shoulders, and stepped out of the bedroom. I needed to find him. Not to apologize, he had done nothing wrong but to reclaim my composure. To prove to myself that I wasn’t rattled.
I made it halfway down the hall before turning a corner, not knowing where exactly I could find him but I heard a soft sound.
I think he is in there, so I tap on it three times, "yes," I think that was what I heard, so I pushed the door open, only to be left frozen in my spot.
"Elena..." My name slipped out of his lips. Almost inaudible, he jerked off faster, and a low groan ripped from his throat. "Fuck..."
"Nikolai..." I called out, my voice was low, but it still echoed in the room, and his body went rigid. Nikolai looked at me while my mouth hung open. A few seconds after that, something spurted out of his hard cock that he was holding.
Did he just masturbate with my name?