CHAPTER 3 - I SEDUCED MY UNCLE AND HE LIKED IT III

*(Nora’s POV)*

I sat on the edge of the bed with my arms wrapped around myself and stared at the floor.

The rejection sat in my chest like something heavy and sharp. I kept replaying the look on his face when I told him I wanted him to be the one — the way he had shut down so completely, the way he wouldn’t even look at me when he said no. It felt worse than when Daniel broke up with me. At least Daniel had never mattered this much.

A soft knock sounded on the door.

I didn’t answer.

The knock came again, a little firmer.

“Nora.” Uncle Victor’s voice was quiet. “Can I come in?”

I stayed silent, hoping he would leave. Instead the doorknob turned and he stepped into the room, closing the door gently behind him. I turned my face away toward the window so he wouldn’t see how shiny my eyes were.

“I want to be alone,” I said.

“I know.” He didn’t come closer yet. “But I don’t want you going to sleep thinking the things you said downstairs.”

I let out a short, bitter breath. “What part? The part where nobody wants me, or the part where even my own uncle finds the idea of touching me disgusting?”

“That’s not what I said.”

“It’s what it felt like.”

He was quiet for a moment. Then I heard him move. The bed dipped slightly as he sat on the far edge of it, giving me space.

“Look at me.”

I didn’t.

“Nora.”

I finally turned my head. He looked tired and tense, like he was holding himself under very tight control. His eyes moved over my face carefully.

“It is not because you’re not beautiful,” he said, voice low and serious. “It is not because I don’t want you. Do you understand that?”

The words made my stomach twist. “Then why?”

“Because you’re my niece. Because your mother trusts me. Because if we cross that line there is no way to go back, and I will not be the reason you wake up one morning hating yourself or hating me.”

“I’m nineteen,” I said. My voice came out thinner than I wanted. “I can make my own decisions. I’m not asking you to force me. I’m asking you because I want it. I’ve thought about it. I’m not going to wake up tomorrow and suddenly decide I was confused.”

He rubbed a hand over his jaw. “You say that now. You’ve had a rough few weeks. Your ex left. Your friends are pressuring you. You’re lonely and frustrated and I’m the person who’s here. That doesn’t mean this is the right choice.”

“It is for me.”

“Nora—”

“If you’re not going to do it,” I cut in, the idea forming the moment the words left my mouth, “then at least teach me how to kiss.”

He stared at me.

“What?”

“You heard me.” I shifted on the bed so I was facing him more fully. My heart was beating too fast. “I’ve only kissed one person and it was awkward and quick and it didn’t feel like anything. If you won’t take my virginity, then show me what a real kiss is supposed to feel like. Just that. Please.”

The silence stretched. I could see the war happening behind his eyes — the same one I had seen downstairs. Want and restraint pulling in opposite directions.

“That’s not a good idea,” he said finally, but his voice had gone lower.

“I know.”

He didn’t move for a long time. Then he exhaled slowly, like he had lost an argument with himself, and shifted closer on the bed. One of his hands came up and cupped the side of my face. His thumb brushed once across my cheekbone. He was looking at my mouth.

“Last chance to take it back,” he murmured.

I didn’t.

He leaned in and kissed me.

It started careful — just the press of his mouth against mine, warm and controlled. Then I made a small sound and his hand slid into my hair, tilting my head, and the careful part disappeared. He kissed me deeper, slower, teaching me without words. When his tongue touched mine I felt it all the way down my spine. My hands came up and fisted in the front of his shirt.

He made a low sound in his chest and pulled me closer. One of his hands settled on my waist, then slid under the oversized shirt I was still wearing. The heat of his palm against my bare skin made me gasp into his mouth. His hand kept moving up until it closed over my breast. My nipple was already hard against his palm. He brushed his thumb over it and my whole body jerked.

I kissed him back harder, messy and desperate. My hands slid down his chest, feeling the solid muscle under his shirt, then lower, over his stomach, until my fingers brushed the waistband of his sweatpants. I could feel how hard he was. When my hand pressed more firmly against the thick shape of him, he groaned into my mouth.

Then he broke the kiss and caught my wrist.

We were both breathing hard. His forehead rested against mine. His hand was still under my shirt, still cupping my breast, like he hadn’t managed to make himself let go yet.

“That’s enough,” he said, voice rough.

“Uncle Victor—”

“No.” He carefully pulled his hand out of my shirt and moved back on the bed, putting space between us again. His eyes were dark and his jaw was tight. “This is already more than it should have been. I’m not going to take it further.”

I sat there with my lips still tingling and my breast still warm from his hand, aching and frustrated and a little wrecked.

He stood up. For a moment he just looked at me like he was committing the sight of me to memory against his will.

“Try to sleep,” he said quietly.

Then he left the room and closed the door behind him.

I lay back on the bed and stared at the ceiling, my body still thrumming, the taste of him still in my mouth, and realized that stopping after a kiss was somehow worse than if he had never touched me at all.