14. Nicholas
CHAPTER 14
Nicholas
I hovered by the door, suddenly unsure. My jacket was off, hanging on the rack like it belonged there, but my pulse pounded with the awareness that this wasn’t my space—it was his. It felt intimate in a way I hadn’t been prepared for.
The warmth of Markus’s home had wrapped around me the second we stepped inside, chasing away the chill from the night. The heater hummed softly in the background, already working to warm the space, while Markus crouched by the fireplace, striking a match to light the logs. Soft lighting spilled from a single lamp on the side table, casting a golden glow over the cozy space. It smelled like coffee and something distinctly him—a warm, woodsy cologne that I’d noticed during our first hug and hadn’t been able to forget since.
Markus moved farther in, pulling the curtains shut against the dark. The soft swish of fabric drew my attention to the way his broad shoulders shifted under his sweater. I could still feel the solid warmth of his hands from when he’d helped steady me on the ice.
I wasn’t one to linger after dates. They either ended at the threshold with an awkward handshake or, if things had gone well, maybe a kiss that left a promise of next time. So why was I here, standing in his living room, my heart threatening to beat out of my chest?
He glanced back at me, his eyes warm and expectant. “Make yourself comfortable.”
I stepped farther in, trying to focus on the space instead of the man who seemed to fill it effortlessly. A throw blanket lay draped over the couch, neatly folded. A book sat on the coffee table, the spine cracked from frequent use. This wasn’t just a house; it was his home, a place he’d made his home so quickly.
I sank into the couch, letting the soft fabric cushion me. My legs brushed against the edge of the coffee table as I leaned forward. “Did you plan all this, Doc? Ice skating, hot chocolate, now this cozy domestic vibe? You setting the bar high for yourself on purpose?”
A quiet chuckle rumbled from him as he settled into the chair across from me. “You caught me. Thought I’d start strong and hope you’d stick around long enough to see I’m not perfect.”
“Not perfect? Shocking. Next, you’ll tell me you don’t actually bake those cookies for the seniors.”
His lips quirked, but there was a warmth in his eyes that made my stomach flip. “No, those I bake. You can ask the Copelands—they sell me the dough at their health food store. Well, not the dough exactly... I usually pick up whole-grain banana nut muffin mix or oatmeal cookie dough. I try to keep it healthier for the residents. They’re not getting any of those sugar-packed treats from me.”
I laughed, more to cover the sudden tightness in my chest than anything else. This shouldn’t feel so easy. Comfortable. He made it too easy to want more, to let my guard slip in ways I hadn’t allowed in years.
Still, I couldn’t help testing the waters. “You were nervous tonight, though. Admit it.”
He shifted in his chair, a sheepish grin pulling at his lips. “Maybe a little.”
“A little? Please. You kept adjusting your skates, like you couldn’t decide if you were supposed to catch me when I fell or let me crash and burn.” I leaned forward, watching him as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “It was cute, though.”
“Cute,” he repeated, his voice low, almost rumbling. His eyes fixed on me, dark and unreadable, but the warmth there hadn’t faded.
It wasn’t fair, how a single look from him could heat my skin more than the fire ever could. I’d been teasing to keep things light, but his gaze shifted the air between us, turning it heavier, thicker.
I moved to the couch’s edge, closing some of the space between us. My pulse hammered louder than my thoughts, but I wasn’t about to back down. “Don’t tell me I’ve embarrassed you.”
“Not even close.”
I reached out, brushing a stray curl from my forehead, deliberately shifting into his space. “Good, because I’m not done teasing you yet.”
He stayed still, but his jaw tightened, his throat bobbing as he swallowed. He wasn’t nervous now. He was waiting.
I dropped to my knees and knee-walked toward him and leaned in. Testing him. His breath hitched just enough to make me grin. For all his confidence, Markus was still holding back. So I closed the gap, brushing my lips against his, light as a whisper.
It was all the permission he needed.
The air between us vanished as his hand found my jaw, firm and steady, pulling me closer. His lips claimed mine, a kiss that started soft and questioning before deepening, consuming. The edge of his dominance simmered just beneath the surface, coaxing a quiet sound from my throat before I could stop it.
His other hand settled on my waist, anchoring me, and I leaned into him, feeling the solid heat of his chest, the scrape of his beard against my skin. He kissed like he was unraveling me piece by piece, deliberate but urgent, careful but commanding.
By the time he pulled back, his forehead resting against mine, I was breathless. My hands were fisted in his sweater, clinging to the only steady thing in the room.
“You’re full of surprises,” I murmured, my voice unsteady.
“So are you,” he replied, his thumb brushing against my jaw, grounding me even as my pulse raced.
I wasn’t sure what had shifted tonight, but I didn’t want it to stop.
His hand on my hip tightened as he guided me backward. I barely registered the shift until his arms wrapped around me, lifting me up from where I’d dropped to my knees. With surprising ease, he placed me back onto the couch, settling me against the soft cushions.
“Lie down,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver through me.
I did, half-lowering, half falling into the cushions as he followed, caging me in without an ounce of hesitation. My pulse pounded in my ears, and I swallowed hard, trying to keep my usual bravado. But his intensity stole the air from my lungs.
His lips found mine again, hungry and unrelenting, his hand sliding from my hip to my thigh, anchoring me beneath him. My heart raced at the pressure, the heat, and I couldn’t hold back the soft sound that escaped my throat when his teeth grazed my bottom lip.
“Tell me you want this,” he breathed against my mouth, his words a growl that sent a wave of heat straight through me. “Because I won’t make another move unless I know.”
My fingers curled into his shirt, gripping him like a lifeline. “If I didn’t want this,” I managed, my voice rough and uneven, “you’d already be out on your ass.”
That earned a low chuckle, but there was nothing teasing in the way his hand slid higher, his thumb tracing slow, deliberate circles against my skin. His eyes met mine, dark and unyielding, the unspoken question still lingering there.
“Markus,” I whispered, the sound more of a plea than I’d intended. “You overthink everything, you know that?”
“I’d rather overthink than assume.” His lips brushed against my jaw as he spoke, and I tilted my head back, surrendering more of myself than I thought I could.
"I wasn’t used to being this exposed, this vulnerable. I was always the one who kept control, who called the shots. But with Markus, it felt… different. He wasn’t just taking control; he was coaxing my guard down, his touch demanding but gentle, his words firm yet full of care."
It should have annoyed me. It should have made me push back. But instead, it made me want to give more.
His hands were everywhere—slow, intentional, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. When his mouth moved lower, pressing a line of kisses down my neck and chest, I arched into him, my body betraying me in ways I couldn’t ignore.
“You’re too good at this,” I muttered, my voice shaky.
He paused, his breath warm against my skin. “Too good?”
“Yeah.” My fingers found his hair, threading through it as I pulled him closer. “It’s annoying.”
His laugh was a soft growl, and the vibration of it made me shudder. “I can stop being good at it if you want.”
“Don’t you dare.”
He didn’t rush. Even when the intensity between us grew, even when I felt like I was unraveling under his touch, he would pause, his gaze searching mine.
“Is this okay?” His voice was softer this time, as if he was afraid of breaking whatever fragile thing was growing between us.
I rolled my eyes, but it was hard to keep the teasing edge when my chest felt this tight. “I swear, Markus, if you stop again?—”
“You’ll what?” His lips curved into a faint smirk, but the question hung in the air, daring me to finish.
I leaned up, capturing his mouth in mine, pulling him closer until there wasn’t an inch of space between us. My answer was in the way I kissed him back, the way I arched into his touch, the way I let him see everything I usually kept locked away.
The texture of his mouth against mine was intoxicating, a heady mix of warmth and need that sent sparks shooting down my spine. The taste of him—a hint of chocolate from earlier in our date mingled with something uniquely Markus—lingered on my tongue, stirring an insatiable hunger within me.
His hands explored the contours of my body with an urgency that matched my own. Each caress sent waves of pleasure coursing through me, igniting sensations that made me gasp into his mouth. His fingers traced paths down my back before coming to rest at the small of it, pulling me closer still.
Beneath him on the couch, I felt his arousal pressing into me, hard and undeniable proof of his desire for me. Me . It mirrored my own excitement, which pulsed in rhythm with each beat of my heart. The feel of him so intimately close stirred a raw longing inside me that was both thrilling and terrifying in its intensity.
I let myself sink further into the cushions as Markus continued to explore every inch of me. His hardness pressed against mine created a friction that threatened to consume us both. This kiss wasn't just passionate; it was an erotic dance between two bodies yearning for each other's touch—a dance I had willingly surrendered myself to.
“I want you to fuck me, Markus.” And in case he didn’t think I really wanted this with him, I said one word that had been circling in my mind. "Now."