The Stranger I Married-Chapter 58: Not like this|

His chest rose sharply against hers, and for a moment it felt like the world had frozen—until it shattered.

"Damn it," Nicholas muttered under his breath, his voice gravelled and tight. And then he snapped.

He surged forward like a dam finally giving way, his mouth crashing into hers with a force that stole her breath and reason in one punishing sweep. His fingers buried themselves in her hair, fisting at the nape of her neck, while the other hand grasped her jaw and tilted it just enough for him to take everything he wanted.

And he wanted everything.

His kiss wasn’t gentle. It was desperate. Hungry. Fierce. There was no pretense, no build-up, just a raw unleashing of everything he had buried.

He kissed her like he’d been starving and she was the only thing left in the world that could keep him alive. Like she was salvation and sin wrapped in the same skin. His lips molded to hers with feverish intensity, each movement fast and frantic, like he was trying to memorize the shape of her mouth before the world ended.

Ella whimpered into his kiss, her hands flying to his shirt, fisting the material, needing to feel more. Her knees buckled, and he caught her, pulling her closer, pressing every inch of himself against her until there was no space left to breathe. Her mouth opened under the pressure, willingly, and he groaned low into her as he deepened the kiss.

His tongue pushed in, dominant and demanding, and she met it with her own, the taste of him exploding across her senses. He tasted like tension and heat and something she didn’t have a name for but wanted more of. Her hands moved to his hair, dragging him deeper into the kiss, her nails grazing his scalp, earning a guttural growl that vibrated against her mouth.

"God," he rasped, breaking the kiss for half a second, their foreheads touching, "I can’t—fuck—I can’t stay away from you."

His words were shredded, gasped between kisses that refused to stop coming. He was panting, like every breath he took had to come through her.

Nicholas backed her up without warning, their bodies stumbling together, blindly moving with no direction but instinct. Her back hit the edge of the console table, the contact jarring but instantly forgotten as his mouth returned to hers, rougher, more urgent. He grasped her hips, his grip bruising in its intensity, and without a word, lifted her.

Her breath caught as he set her on the edge of the table. The moment her thighs wrapped around his waist, something snapped between them. He groaned deep in his chest, grinding against her, the friction making them both cry out.

"Been going insane," he muttered, mouth trailing hot kisses down her neck, each one deeper, more possessive. "You have no idea what you do to me."

His lips found that spot beneath her ear and sucked hard. Her entire body arched into him, a desperate noise catching in her throat. Her fingers scraped down his back, her thighs tightening around him as her body begged for more.

He pressed harder against her core, his breath ragged as he mouthed along her collarbone. His hands, no longer content to stay still, slid under her shirt. His fingertips brushed her bare skin, leaving fire in their wake as he dragged them up slowly, teasingly, until he cupped her breast through her bra.

Ella gasped, her head falling back, the heat in her belly tightening. He kneaded softly at first, then rougher, matching the pace of his hips as he rutted slowly against her. She was losing her mind, each touch unraveling her further.

"Nicholas—" she breathed his name like a prayer, her voice raw and trembling.

But his mouth was back on hers before she could say more, and this time the kiss was chaotic—clashing teeth, slick tongues, and helpless sounds spilling into the air between them. The pressure was building, overwhelming, spiraling to a place neither of them could pull back from.

She fumbled with his belt, her fingers clumsy and eager, but before she could get far, his hand caught hers.

"Wait," he said, panting against her lips. "Shit—Ella, wait."

He didn’t let go, but he didn’t move either. Just held her hand in his, their bodies still pressed together, his forehead leaning against hers like he needed the anchor.

"I want you," he said, barely a whisper. "I want you so damn bad it hurts. But not like this."

Ella blinked, dazed, confused, lips swollen and tingling. "What do you mean?"

His chest heaved. He kissed her forehead gently, then her cheek, his touch now soft, reverent, a complete contrast to the firestorm from moments before.

"You’ve been through too much tonight," he murmured, his voice thick with something heavier than lust. "I can’t be the guy who takes advantage of your pain. You deserve more than that. You deserve better than this."

Her throat closed up. Something about the way he said it—like it physically pained him to stop—made her chest ache. Not just from desire, but from something deeper. Something terrifyingly tender.

She cupped his face, thumbs brushing over the stubble of his cheeks. "You’re not hurting me," she whispered. "You’re grounding me."

He squeezed his eyes shut, leaning into her touch, trembling slightly. "That’s exactly why I need to stop," he muttered. "If I don’t, I won’t. And I don’t want you waking up tomorrow wishing I’d waited."

Tears stung her eyes—not from sadness, but from the sheer weight of how much restraint it was taking for him to say no. And the fact that he cared enough to even try.

He stepped back slightly, hands still holding her thighs like he couldn’t bear to let go completely.

"I’m going to get you some water," he said, voice hoarse. "And then you’re going to rest. No arguments."

Ella gave a shaky nod, her pulse still thudding in her ears, her body still thrumming with heat. "Okay," she whispered.

He turned to go, but her voice stopped him at the doorway—quiet, raw, vulnerable.

"Don’t go too far."

He paused. Shoulders rising with a slow inhale before he looked back at her, eyes dark, jaw clenched.

"Not a chance."freewёbn૦νeɭ.com