Bound by lies, Trapped by Desire - Chapter 55: Chapter 55

Elena’s POV:
The blaring sound of my alarm felt like a hammer to the skull. I groaned, rolling over, the movement sending a dull throb through my bruised arms. "Siri, stop the damn alarm," I mumbled, my voice scratchy. The ringing ceased, but the ache in my muscles didn’t.
I blinked up at the ceiling, the strong scent of coffee wafting in from the kitchen. Nikolai had ordered a new coffee machine, top-of-the-line, of course. Now, every morning started with the rich, dark scent of freshly brewed espresso. Normally, I’d savor it. Today, it was a cruel reminder of everything I couldn’t do. I still hadn’t figured out what to do about my presentation, and Rachel still wasn’t responding to any of my texts.
I pushed myself up with my elbows, gritting my teeth as pain shot through my arms. The bandages on my hands felt like a prison, trapping me in my own skin. How the hell was I supposed to shower? Mom had helped with brushing my teeth and washing my face yesterday but I had to shower now.
Before I could work up the nerve to get out of bed, the door opened. Nikolai stood there, already dressed in his usual office attire – crisp white shirt, unbuttoned at the collar, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His tie and blazer were missing, and the first few strands of his dark hair hung messily over his forehead. He looked tired. He’d come home late last night. Due to some important meeting.
"Oh, you’re up," he said, his gaze drifting over me. "You need help with the shower?"
Heat flooded my face. "I—I can manage."
"Sure you can," he said dryly, walking over to the bed. "Come on, Elena. You’re not fooling anyone."
I opened my mouth to argue, but he was already slipping an arm around my waist, hauling me up gently and holding me steady as I wobbled to my feet. Which was stupid because my legs were working just fine. A little pain on the knee caps but that was all.
The bathroom was filled with the scent of his aftershave – clean, musky, distracting. He set me down on the closed toilet seat and reached for the hem of my shirt.
"Wait—" I squeaked.
He paused, a brow lifting. "What?"
"This is… this is weird," I muttered, my face burning. "I mean, you don’t have to—"
"We’ve already had sex, Elena. I’ve seen you naked, multiple times."
"That’s different," I said quickly. "That was… you know, for… fun."
His lips quirked. "And this isn’t fun for you?"
"That’s not what I meant!" I sputtered.
He laughed then, a low, raspy sound that sent a shiver down my spine. "Relax, Malishka. I’m just helping you clean up. Unless you’d rather sit here all day stinking like sweat."
"Fine," I grumbled, biting down on my lower lip. "Just… don’t look."
"You’re cute when you’re embarrassed," he said, his voice dropping as he knelt before me. His hands were warm, firm as he lifted the shirt over my head, tossing it into the laundry basket. I shivered as the cool air hit my skin, my nipples pebbling beneath the thin sports bra.
Nikolai’s eyes darkened, but he said nothing as he unhooked it, sliding it down my arms carefully to avoid the bandages. Then he was peeling down my shorts, his gaze fixed on my face the entire time. I tried not to squirm, tried not to think about how his hands felt against my skin or how his breath ghosted over my collarbone as he leaned in to help me step out of the shorts.
To my utter embarrassment. I also had to pee. So he stepped out as I did my business only to come back in and use water to clean me. By the time I was done, mortification wouldn’t be enough to explain my current condition.
"Alright," he said, standing up. "Let’s get you in."
He helped me into the shower, the water warm against my bruised skin. I leaned against the tiled wall as he reached for the soap, lathering his hands. He moved closer, his chest brushing against mine as he began to wash me – his hands sliding over my arms, my shoulders, my back. Each touch was slow, deliberate, and maddeningly gentle.
"You’re tense," he murmured, his mouth close to my ear.
"I’m not tense," I said, teeth clenched.
His hands slipped lower, trailing over my hips, my thighs, moving up again until his soapy fingers found the curve of my breasts. I sucked in a sharp breath, my heart slamming against my ribs as he cupped them, massaging slow circles over the soapy skin.
"You sure about that?" he asked, his voice dropping an octave.
"Nik—" I started, but then his fingers dipped lower, sliding between my legs. The soapy slickness made me gasp, my knees buckling as his fingers stroked over my clit, circling, pressing just right.
"Still tense?" he asked, his mouth brushing against my neck.
"Oh god," I whimpered, my hips jerking forward.
He kept going, his fingers moving faster, harder, until my body tensed, shuddered, and finally splintered apart. This was faster than all the times before. I had gotten so used to orgasms multiple times a night that even one day off was making me horny as hell.
I bit down on my lip to muffle the cry that escaped me, my hands aching as I accidentally clenched them, making me gasp in pain.
"There you go," he murmured, pressing a kiss to my temple as I sagged against him. "Now, let’s wash your hair."
By the time he finished, I was a boneless, dazed mess. He wrapped me in a towel, dried me off carefully, then helped me into a white T-shirt and a flowy skirt. I could barely lift my arms, let alone button up a shirt, so he did it for me.
"Why the skirt?" he asked, brow raised. Since I had chosen this outfit.
"Easier to go to the bathroom," I muttered, cheeks still flushed.
He chuckled, ruffling my hair. "I’ll help you with that, don’t worry."
I couldn’t do anything but nod.
“You know,” he says, brushing a stray strand of hair behind my ear, “I’m only allowing you to go out like this because of your presentation.”
“Allowing?” I arch a brow, feigning offense.
“Yes,” he says, eyes glinting as they rake over my bandaged hands. “Otherwise, I’d keep you right here. Resting.”
I roll my eyes, ignoring the fluttering sensation in my chest. “What are you, my warden now?”
He leans in, his lips brushing just over the shell of my ear. “If that’s what you’re into, Malishka.”
I shiver, my face heating. “You—”
“And after we are done, I’ll bring you right back home,” he continues, pulling away, his expression back to that smug, infuriating grin.
Wait.
I blink, eyebrows knitting together. “We?”
Nikolai’s brow arches as he crosses his arms over his chest. “Yes, we.”
I shake my head, still trying to catch up. “You’re… you’re coming with me?”
“You need help with the presentation, right?” he says casually, as if he hadn’t just dropped a bombshell.
My eyes widen. Of course. I hadn’t even thought of that. I’d been so caught up in the panic of not being able to use my hands, of trying to come up with a last-minute solution, that it never even occurred to me that he might actually help.
“But… aren’t you busy?” I ask, voice smaller than I intend.
His expression softens, and for a brief moment, I see something unguarded in his eyes. Something that makes my heart stutter.
“Not busy enough for my wife,” he murmurs, stepping closer and lifting my chin with the pad of his thumb. “Not when she needs me.”
The word ‘wife’ hangs heavy in the air, making my cheeks flush. My pulse quickens.
I open my mouth to say something—anything—but the words don’t come.
He picks a blue flower claw clip from the dresser, matching my skirt, as he clips back my combed wet hair in a half up-do.
“Ready?” he asks, voice dropping lower, almost a purr.
I swallow, my mouth suddenly dry.
“Y-Yeah,” I manage to say.
He steps back, smirking. “Then let’s go.”
We went downstairs together, the smell of coffee stronger now. Mom was already there, fully dressed, her hair neatly tied back as she poured herself a cup. She glanced up when she saw Nikolai, her expression softening.
"You cooked breakfast again?" she asked, watching as he served her pancakes. "You should be resting, Nikolai."
"I’m fine," he said, forcing a smile. "It wasn’t that bad."
My eyes drifted to the band-aid on his forehead, the one covering the gash from the crash. He caught me looking and grimaced, quickly turning away. My chest tightened.
"You took the worst of it," he said, his voice rough. "If you hadn’t been behind me—"
"It’s alright," I said quickly, not wanting to think about it. "Let’s just eat."
After breakfast, Nikolai grabbed my laptop bag, slinging it over his shoulder. "Shoes on, Malishka."
I frowned, looking him up and down. "You’re seriously going to university looking like that?"
He glanced down at himself, taking in the pressed shirt and slacks. "What’s wrong with it?"
"You look like a CEO, Niko," I said, crossing my arms. "You need to blend in."
He arched a brow. "Fine. Give me five minutes."
When he came back down, I had to do a double take.
Nikolai was in a simple black Armani T-shirt that fit him like a second skin and a pair of dark jeans that hugged his thighs perfectly. His hair was tousled, the gel washed away, making him look… younger. Almost boyish. But his eyes were still the same – dark, intense, focused on me.
"Remind me again how old you are?" I blurted.
He frowned. "Thirty-three. Why?"
Thirty-three. Thirty-three and he looked like that. I swallowed hard, forcing myself to look away as he stepped closer, brushing his lips against my temple.
"Ready now?" he asked, grabbing the keys.
I nodded, heart pounding. This was going to be a very long day.