Chapter 60 When He Let Me In 2
Aiden’s fingers brushed along my arm, so lightly they felt like warm threads of air. His breath moved against my temple, slow and steady, matching the rhythm of my own. For a moment we simply lay there, breathing together, sharing warmth, sharing silence.
Then he shifted.
Just slightly.
But enough that I felt the difference in the air. The closeness changed—deeper, heavier, warmer.
His hand slid to my waist, fingers tracing small, gentle patterns as if memorizing the shape of me. I tilted my face up toward him, and he looked down, eyes half-lidded, gold softened by candlelight.
“Elara…” he whispered, almost as if my name alone was a question.
I answered by leaning up and kissing him again.
This kiss was slower—unhurried, tender, like he was letting himself feel everything he was afraid to before. His hand slid up my spine, steady and sure, pulling me closer until his body aligned with mine, warm and solid.
When he finally pulled back, his forehead hovered inches from mine. I heard his breath catch.
“Tell me if I’m going too far.”
“You’re not,” I whispered, my fingers curling lightly against his chest. “I want this.”
His eyes fluttered closed for a moment, relief washing through his expression.
Then he lowered his lips to my jaw.
A soft kiss.
Then another.
Then another—slower, warmer—following the line of my jaw to the curve beneath my ear.
My breath hitched, and he paused just long enough to whisper, “Is this okay?”
“Aiden… yes.”
The small, unsteady exhale he released made my heart twist. As if he had held this desire inside him for so long he feared it would break if he touched it too suddenly.
He kissed the side of my neck—gentle at first, almost shy. His hair slipped forward, brushing my shoulder in golden waves. His fingers tightened slightly on my waist as he pressed another kiss, warmer this time, right where my pulse fluttered.
My breath escaped in a soft sound I couldn’t stop.
Aiden stilled.
“Elara…”
The way he said my name—low, rough, trembling the slightest bit—sent a shiver down my spine.
He dipped his head again, kissing lower, his lips moving slowly along the curve of my neck. Each soft touch felt like a question, like he was asking with every breath if I wanted him as much as he wanted me.
I tilted my head instinctively, giving him more room, and he inhaled sharply—a quiet, unsteady sound that made heat curl deep inside me.
His hand slid from my waist, grazing the side of my ribs, tracing the shape of me as though he were learning a map by touch alone. When his fingers brushed along my hip, a soft sigh escaped me—half relief, half something warmer.
He kissed down the slope of my neck, slow and unhurried, as if he had all the time in the world to explore. His lips found the hollow at the base of my throat, lingering there, warm and gentle.
I felt the shift in him—his breathing growing deeper, the hand at my waist sliding just a little lower, fingertips grazing my thigh through the fabric of my clothes.
The touch sent a flutter through me so strong I gasped softly.
Aiden froze immediately, lifting his head.
“Elara. Tell me if—”
“Don’t stop,” I whispered.
Something in him softened.
Something else heated.
He lowered his head again, this time kissing the top of my shoulder. Then the curve where neck met shoulder. Then back to the base of my throat. Each kiss deeper than the last, still delicate but carrying a warmth that made my heartbeat race.
His hand brushed my thigh again—slowly, reverently—fingers tracing the curve like he was afraid to break me. The touch wasn’t demanding or hurried. It was simply him—gentle, warm, patient. Asking. Waiting. Wanting.
I exhaled a trembling breath and placed my hand over his, guiding him just slightly, letting him know it was okay. His eyes darkened with something warm and desperate, but he kept his movements slow.
“Are you sure?” he whispered, voice husky, mouth brushing my skin with every word.
I nodded, breathless. “Yes.”
His thumb stroked softly along my thigh—barely there, barely touching, but enough to send warmth blooming through me. His other hand slipped up my back, holding me close as he kissed a slow trail down the side of my neck again, each kiss heavier, warmer, filled with something tender and raw.
My fingers slid into his hair, and he leaned into the touch with a quiet sigh, lips lingering against my skin.
“Gods, Elara…” he murmured, breath shaking slightly. “You have no idea what you do to me.”
His touch moved again—slow, gentle—traveling along my thigh in a way that made my breath catch and my heart stumble. Not rushing. Not pushing. Just exploring the way two people who trust each other do.
His forehead pressed to my shoulder as he breathed me in, his hair falling soft and warm around us like a curtain. I felt his chest rise and fall against mine, steady but growing heavier with each moment.
I turned my head slightly and kissed the side of his neck.
He inhaled sharply—a sound that felt like heat and surrender.
“Elara…”
I kissed him again, higher this time, closer to his jaw. He lifted his head slowly, his eyes warm and molten, searching mine for permission he already had.
He kissed me again—deeply, slowly, letting his hand slide from my thigh up to my waist, pulling me closer until our bodies fit together perfectly.
We moved like that—slow, warm, breath mingling, hearts racing, hands exploring carefully, intimately—wrapped in candlelight and soft shadows and the safety of each other.
And when the moment grew deeper, stronger, when the world narrowed to just warmth and breath and the sound of his heartbeat…
the rest of the night unfolded gently around us, like a whispered promise neither of us wanted to break.
The candles burned low.
The blankets warmed around us.
And the world outside faded softly, beautifully, leaving only us.
— Fade to black.