And nothing has felt more right than this.
In the aftermath,my legs are shaking, so I don’t resist when Nathaniel gathers me into his arms and carries me straight into the bathroom.
Steam curls around us in the shower as he soaps my skin, his touch gentle but thorough. He kneads away the strain in my muscles, checking in with attentive glances and soft brushes of his thumbs.
Under the rush of water, he takes me again, his hands braced beside my head, coaxing yet another orgasm out of me.
Afterward, he wraps me up in a towel and dries me off carefully. He slips one of his shirts over my head and eases a fresh pair of lace panties up my legs.
“A treat, just for me,” he says with a wink.
Then he lifts me again and carries me to the living room, settling me on the sofa with a light blanket around my shoulders, as if sealing me back into my body.
It’s nearly noon now.
The sun has inched higher, casting warm stripes across the floorboards.
I feel completely blissed out from the sweetness of being touched so thoroughly and cared for so intentionally. I know that there are still difficult but unavoidable conversations to be had between us, but, for the first time, none of it fills me with dread.
Footsteps approach from the hallway. When I look up, Nathaniel steps into the room barefoot, shirtless, wearing only a fresh pair of dark slacks. His hair is still damp, the ends curling slightly at his nape. He looks relaxed in a way he rarely allows himself to be, softer and almost domestic.
A greedy part of me thrills at the fact that I am the only one who gets to see him this way.
From where I sit, I take him in: the warm skin stretched across broad shoulders, the defined lines of his abdomen, the faint flush still marking his throat, and the aristocratic perfection of his face. It’s absurd how deeply he affects me, until now.
I catch myself wondering if this is how it will be for the rest of our lives—if one look at him will always take me apart in small, helpless ways.
The rest of our lives…
His proposal rises to the forefront of my mind. I’ve kept it at arm’s length all this time, never allowing myself to look at it for too long.
But now… I feel myself finally turning toward it. Maybe I’m ready to answer him.
Nathaniel crosses the room with purpose. I expect him to sit beside me, to ease into the conversation we’re about to have. Instead, he steps between my knees, standing close enough that his body radiates heat into the narrow space that separates us.
Confusion flickers through me. I tilt my chin up, searching his face. What I find there is clear: a decision already made.
Before I even piece together what’s happening, Nathaniel lowers himself onto one knee. My breath snags in my throat. My heart slams hard against my ribs, quick and disbelieving.I know.I know exactly what’s coming.
But he stills.
He studies me for a beat, a ripple of doubt passing through his expression, and murmurs, almost to himself, “No. Not like this.”
And then he sinks even lower.
Nathaniel settles on both knees before me. His palms come to rest lightly on my thighs, an offering of himself.
Shock runs through me in a sharp, electric line. But beneath it, a deeper current unfurls—warm, steady, spreading through my chest and stomach until I feel split open by it. Because seeing him like this—Nathaniel Caldwell, all polish and control, lowered before me with nothing held back—does something devastating to me.
“Nate?” My voice scrapes out. “What’s going on?”
“I wasn’t supposed to do this now.” His tone is low, edged with something like wonder. “I’ve been trying to plan this for days. I wanted to give you a moment that was worthy of you.” He huffs softly, almost amused at himself. “I’ve been all over the city this past week. Gardens. Rooftops. Private halls. I kept trying to create the perfect scene.”
I can only stare, floored by the image of him spending his time and energy, going from venue to venue, all for the purpose of pleasing me. Had there ever been a person who would go to such lengths just to make me happy, and would there ever be another?
“But the truth is…” His gaze drops, then lifts again with naked honesty. “I was trying to overwrite the first time I asked you.” His mouth curves, almost bashful. “I didn’t have a plan then. Or a ring. I blurted it out because I was so in love with you, I could barely stand it.” His eyes warm. “I just wanted you. Desperately. And I didn’t know how to hide it.”
A soft laugh escapes him. “Naturally, you didn’t say yes. But you didn’t say no, either. And since then, not a single day has passed when I haven’t thought about asking again.”
