Chapter 16

Still in the black shirt he had left in, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, the collar slightly open like he had just returned and hadn’t even paused to change. His hair was tousled, his jaw shadowed with faint stubble, and his eyes… those dark eyes were filled with something soft and deep as they looked down at her.

“You’re home,” she whispered, voice hoarse with sleep.

His thumb brushed her cheek again, like he hadn’t stopped since she opened her eyes.

“You look so innocent and beautiful while you’re sleeping,” Nash said, voice low.

Liana’s heart skipped a beat. A blush climbed onto her cheeks before she could even respond. The way he was looking at her — like she was some fragile, rare thing that he was afraid to break — it did something strange to her.

He leaned a little closer. “You know I was worried about you. That maybe you wouldn’t be okay alone.”

Her lips parted slightly, caught between smiling and teasing. “Why wouldn’t I be? Am I a baby to you?”

A slow smirk tugged at Nash’s lips, but his eyes didn’t lose that warmth. He leaned in until his breath fanned her ear.

“You’re not less than a baby to me,” he whispered.

Liana’s face burned, and she sat up quickly to hide her flushed expression. “I—I was out yesterday with Mia!” she said, trying to change the subject, hopping off the bed and reaching for the bags she had left on the chair. “Look what I got.”

Nash sat back slightly, amused, watching her scramble around the room like a flustered bird. His eyes followed her every movement — from the way her hair tumbled over her shoulder to the way her fingers moved nervously as she unpacked the small items from the bags.

She pulled out a pale blue sweater first.

“This one was on sale,” she explained, holding it up to her chest. “Mia said it brings out my eyes.”

Nash tilted his head. “She’s not wrong.”

Liana cleared her throat, pretending not to hear that.

She picked up another — a small pair of earrings. “I know I don’t usually wear jewelry much but these looked pretty.”

“They’ll look better on you than in the box,” Nash said, his voice quiet.

She paused for a second, caught off guard, then laughed softly. “You’re in a strange mood this morning.”

He didn’t deny it.

“I missed you,” Nash admitted simply, his voice heavier now.

Liana’s hand froze over the last item in the bag. She looked at him, really looked at him — the tired lines under his eyes, the way his shoulders looked a little tense like he hadn’t slept properly.

And yet… he was here.

Back beside her.

He hadn’t even taken a breath before climbing into the bed next to her. He hadn’t gone to his office. He hadn’t showered or changed. The first thing he did was come to her.

She didn’t say anything right away. She walked slowly back to the bed, set the last bag aside, and climbed in again, curling her knees slightly under the blanket.

Nash was still sitting, watching her.

“I missed you too,” she said quietly.

His eyes softened even more, and without asking, he reached for her hand under the sheets. Their fingers entwined, his thumb brushing over her knuckles.

“Did you sleep well?” he asked.

“I tried,” she said, her voice light. “Your bed smells like you, you know? It made it hard to forget.”

Something in his expression flickered — that possessive edge that came with anything that involved her. “Good. Maybe you’ll stop trying to forget me altogether.”

“I wasn’t trying to forget,” she said softly. “I was trying not to miss you.”

For a long moment, they didn’t speak.

Only the soft hum of morning drifted in through the windows, and the warmth between them settled like something unspoken but understood.

The silence between them after Liana’s whispered confession lingered like morning dew — light, delicate, yet soaking deep into the skin. Nash’s fingers still held hers, warm and firm, as if he needed to remind himself that she was really here. That she hadn’t vanished in his absence.

Liana leaned slightly against his shoulder. “Did you even sleep while you were gone?”

“No,” Nash admitted. “I couldn’t. I kept thinking if you were warm… if you were safe.”

Her lips curled softly. “I was safe. And warm.” She paused, then added teasingly, “Your bed helped.”

A low chuckle vibrated in Nash’s chest. “Then maybe I should never let you sleep in any other bed again.”

She looked up at him, blinking. “Is that a threat?”

“No,” he said, voice dipping low as his gaze darkened. “That’s a promise.”

The moment thickened — heavy with words unspoken and desires barely held back.

Then Nash stood.

“Come on,” he said, tugging her hand.

“Where?” she asked, confused.

“To shower. Unless you like starting the day smelling like old books and night dreams.”

She laughed softly. “You’re not wrong.”

He pulled her up gently, but once she stood, he didn’t let go. Instead, he drew her into him, wrapping an arm around her waist and leaning down until their foreheads touched.

“I missed waking up with you,” he murmured.

“I missed waking up to this voice,” she replied shyly.

Nash kissed her softly — slow, like tasting something forbidden he’d been craving for too long. Then, without another word, he led her into the adjoining bathroom.

⸻

The steam curled in the air, fogging the mirrors and softening the edges of the world. Warm water rained down from the ceiling-mounted shower, and Liana stood beneath it, her arms wrapped around her body as the heat soaked into her bones.

Nash stood behind her, arms around her waist, chin resting on her wet shoulder.

Neither spoke at first.

It was peaceful.

Intimate.

Water trickled down their skin, sliding over their closeness.

Then Nash’s hands moved — not in a rush, but in reverence. He washed her hair, gently working his fingers through the strands, rubbing the shampoo in slow circles. His touch was tender, his presence grounding.

Liana closed her eyes, sighing softly.

He washed her back next, sliding the loofah in slow motions, pressing kisses along her nape every few seconds. Her body relaxed into his with every movement. It wasn’t just sensual. It was comforting. Deep. Like he needed to prove he still knew her body after being gone.

But even in the calm, she could feel the growing tension in the way his fingers brushed her thighs a little longer than necessary… the way his lips lingered on her shoulder. There was fire behind his restraint. He just hadn’t lit the match yet.

⸻

When they finally stepped out of the shower, towels wrapped around them, Nash pulled her close again.

“You’re glowing,” he murmured against her temple.

“I’m just clean,” she whispered back.

“No,” he growled under his breath. “You’re glowing because you’re mine.”

Her knees nearly gave out from the way he said that. But before she could react, he had already left a quick, hot kiss on her neck and stepped away, muttering, “Let’s eat before I forget we need food.”

⸻

Downstairs, breakfast was already prepared — eggs, fruit, pancakes, and hot coffee, all neatly arranged by the maids. Liana sat across from Nash at the long table, now wearing one of his shirts that hung loosely over her bare legs.

She was cutting a strawberry when Nash’s phone buzzed.

He picked it up, his expression unreadable for a second — until her name appeared on the screen.

Rose.

His mother.

He hesitated for half a second, then answered.

“Hello?”

Liana watched him carefully, chewing slowly.

“Nash,” came the voice on the other end. Loud enough that even Liana could vaguely hear the tone — urgent, emotional, slightly sharp. “You haven’t visited in weeks. Not even a message. I raised you better than this.”

He sighed. “Mom—”

“Don’t ‘Mom’ me. You’re living with that girl now, aren’t you?”

His jaw tensed.

“I heard. I always hear, Nash. You didn’t think I’d find out? You’ve barely called. Your father’s been asking, too.”

“Because I’ve been busy.”

“With her?”

Liana looked down. The half-cut strawberry slipped from her fork.

“I’m serious, Nash,” Rose continued, her voice cracking now. “Are you really staying with that girl? I don’t even know her. What kind of woman is she? You forgot us? You forgot your mother for her?”

Nash closed his eyes. His knuckles whitened around the phone.

“I didn’t forget you,” he said quietly.

“But you’ve changed. And you don’t even come home anymore.”

“I’ll come soon.”

“When?”

“Soon, Mom.”

The silence that followed was thick and emotional. Then Rose’s voice softened.

“I miss you. Just don’t lose yourself in something that’s not real.”