Chapter 28 Chapter Twenty-Eight
Nikolai's POV
“I’ll... Ahem..." I cleared my throat. “Just let me know when you are done.” I didn’t stop walking. Immediately, I shut the door behind me, and I was already halfway down the corridor.
Only then did I realize my hands were clenched into fists so tight my knuckles ached.
Idiot.
I mumbled as I walked down to my room. My phone rang; it was Matteo calling again. It was his call that had distracted me. I didn't even remember if I knocked on her door before pulling it. "What now?" I yelled at Matteo the moment I pressed the answering button.
"Hey, slow down, I didn't do anything." His voice teasing, I could already imagine his facial expressions.
"Yes, you did a lot of things, you don't know what your stupid call had made me do." I voice out in frustration.
"What? Did it make you..."
I interrupted him, "Shut up and get out of my face."
He chuckled, "But I'm not in front of you."
"Matteo..." I growl.
"Bye!" He said, fast-ending the call. I huff, as I shut my door violently as if it could erase the image from my head but no...
The image followed me down the hallway, clung to me as I entered my room, and as I shut the door violently. It refuses to leave, frustration reeks from me
I dragged a hand through my hair, as I tried to erase the thought and failed. My breathing refuses to turn normal. Elena. Her gorgeous nude body. The shock in her face, the way her eyes were wide, lips parted, like she had been caught off guard by me just as much as I had been by her.
I told myself to let it go.
I told myself it meant nothing.
I told myself this wasn't the first time I was seeing her in her birthday suit.
I had been telling myself that for these six days, she had come to town.
And to think she is my brother's fiancée.
I shouldn't be having filthy thoughts about her. But over the past few days, it's hard not to notice her; it's hard not to imagine those lips of hers on mine.
I leaned my forehead against the door behind me, exhaling slowly. The house was too quiet. My body was too aware. And my mind, traitorous and relentless, refused to cooperate.
The memory shifted without my permission.
Steam. Heat. Marble slick beneath my palms.
Her.
The night of Rafael’s birthday came back in fragments I had tried to bury. Elena laughed, unsteady, the way she had leaned into me as if she belonged there. The way she had kissed me, like she was starving. The way my hand had pressed her tits.
And fuck.
The bathtub was filled too high, water sloshing over the edge. Her skin was warm, bare, pressed against mine as if the world had narrowed to that single moment. The way, I had ended up in the bathtub with her, her tits pressing against my bare chest as she had ripped the button off my shirt.
I squeezed my eyes shut.
“Enough,” I muttered.
But my mind betrayed me again.
Her head tipped back. My mouth against her lips was wrong, careless, unforgettable. The taste of champagne was still on her breath. The way she had sighed, trusting, unaware of the line I was crossing.
I straightened abruptly, chest tight, pulse pounding too fast.
I wasn’t supposed to want her like this.
I paced in my room, stripped off my jacket, and tossed it onto a chair. The air felt thick and heavy, as if it were pressing against my skin. I tried to focus on anything else, the window, the city lights, the faint hum of traffic far below.
It didn’t help.
The image of her standing there earlier returned with cruel clarity. The sheet was clutched to her chest. Her bare shoulder was exposed to my lustful eyes.
I tried, but it was already too late because I was already having muscle cramps, and my cock was getting harder.
I was a hormonal man, so the picture of her nudity that refused to leave my head was driving me crazy.
Something inside me snapped, not loudly, not violently, but enough. For me to throw every courtesy out the window.
I sank onto the edge of the bed, elbows on my knees, head bowed. I told myself I just needed a moment. Just to breathe. Just to clear my head.
That was the lie.
I find myself unzipping my pants, and pushing my hands inside my pants. My Fingers wrapped around my erection as I threw my head back and closed my eyes. I pressed my forearms against my mouth to stop myself from growling or groaning as I slowly stroked my cock up and down.
Just a little.
I chanted in my head
I didn’t intend for it to go as far as it did. I told myself I would stop. That this was just my body reacting, nothing more. A release of tension. A way to get her out of my system.
But she was already everywhere.
I cursed under my breath, jaw clenched, as my thoughts spiraled. The more I tried to push her away, the more vividly she appeared, her voice, her warmth, the way she said my name as it mattered.
And like magic, I conjure her nude image of her standing right here in front of me with her hand covering her tits. Which turned me on more. "Yes..." A low groan escaped my lips, and then the door slipped open, but I didn't raise my head; another groan left my throat. "Elena..." The name left my lips.
"Nikolai" her voice filled the room even when it was low. My gaze snapped up.
I lost track of time.
Lost track of restraint.
By the time I realized how far I had gone, it was already too late to pretend it was nothing. Shame crept in, sharp and unwelcome, twisting in my gut. I sat up abruptly, reaching for my sheet to cover myself, while my hold on my shaft tightened.
She stood frozen in the doorway, eyes wide, breath caught, shock written across her face so clearly it felt like a physical blow. Her gaze was fixed on my cock that was already oozing with pre-cum. For a heartbeat, the world stopped.
Then humiliation slammed into me.
I grabbed my pants, yanking them into place, turning away instinctively like a guilty teenager instead of a grown man who should have known better.
“I...” My voice failed me. I swallowed hard. “Do you... Are you..." I couldn’t finish the sentence. I didn’t dare look at her, afraid of what I would see. Disgust. Anger. Hurt.
Or worse, understanding.
And hoping she didn't know if I was masturbating with her name and image of her nudity.
“I didn't know you were well out early,” I said finally, forcing the words out, forcing control back into my voice. “I should have locked the door.” The silence behind me was deafening.
Then I heard her inhale sharply.
“I didn’t mean to ...” she began, then stopped. Her voice was unsteady. “I was just… looking for you.”
That made it worse.
I turned just enough to see her reflection in the mirror. She wasn’t angry. She wasn’t screaming. She looked stunned, flushed, and Confused.
My chest tightened painfully.
“This is my fault,” I said quietly. “I should have waited till you went to bed before..." I pause again, "I’m sorry you had to see that.”
Her lips parted like she wanted to say something, then pressed together again. She nodded once, stiffly.
“I’ll go,” she murmured.
“No,” I said too quickly, then stopped myself. I took a breath, steadying. “I mean... You don’t need to apologize. I’m the one at fault.”
She hesitated, fingers curling into the hem of my shirt she was wearing. That sight alone nearly undid me again.
“I didn’t realize,” she said softly. “I just… I didn’t think…”
“Neither did I,” I admitted.
The truth hung between us, raw and uncomfortable.
She nodded again, avoiding my eyes this time. “I should let you… have space.”
“Elena,” I said, finally turning fully toward her.
She looked up.
“I never meant for you to feel uncomfortable in this house. Or… objectified. Or like you did something wrong.” My voice was low, controlled with effort. “This... what you saw... It’s not about you doing anything. It’s about me failing to get a handle on myself.”
Her gaze searched my face, as if trying to decide whether to believe me.
“Relax, I know you wouldn't look at me that way, or take advantage of me,” she admitted quietly.
The words struck deeper than any accusation could have. If only she knew how I want to bounce on her right now. I parted my lips to say something then the doorbell rang. "Are you expecting someone?"