The Stranger I Married-Chapter 41: First Kiss

Ella stumbled out onto the balcony, the cool night air hitting her flushed skin like a slap. Her heart was still racing, her body thrumming with the heat that Nicholas had left behind.

What the hell was wrong with her?

Her hands gripped the cold railing as she took deep, steadying breaths. She could still feel the ghost of his touch on her waist, the way his fingers had skimmed up her spine like he owned every inch of her body.

He had almost kissed her.

And she had wanted him to.

Desperately.

The realization made her stomach knot.

This was dangerous. Whatever was happening between them—whatever was building—could only lead to disaster. Nicholas was... everything she had promised herself to avoid.

But then why did her heart betray her every time he looked at her like that?

"Running away again, dolcezza?"

Ella’s eyes snapped open at the sound of his deep, smooth voice behind her.

She stiffened but didn’t turn around. "I needed air."

Nicholas chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through her chest.

His footsteps were slow and deliberate as he approached, stopping just behind her. He was so close that his warmth seeped into her back, making her shiver.

"Liar."

Ella’s breath caught.

Nicholas leaned forward, one hand sliding along the railing beside hers. His fingers brushed against her knuckles—barely there, but enough to send a jolt through her entire body.

"You always run when things get... heated." His voice was low, teasing—dangerous.

Ella squeezed her eyes shut. "I don’t know what you’re talking about."

"Don’t you?"

His breath ghosted against the side of her neck, making her knees tremble.

Ella’s pulse hammered beneath her skin, betraying her. She hated how easily he unraveled her, how a simple touch or whispered word could leave her completely defenseless.

Nicholas always knew exactly what he was doing.

He always knew exactly what she was thinking—probably before she even knew herself.

He leaned in closer, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. "If I had kissed you back there... would you have stopped me?"

Ella’s heart slammed against her ribs.

Her throat felt dry.

"I—I don’t know."

Nicholas’s hand moved—slow and deliberate—until his fingers were trailing up her bare arm, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

"Liar," he whispered again.

Ella’s breath caught.

She finally turned to face him, pressing her back against the cold railing to put some distance between them.

But Nicholas only followed, crowding into her space until there was barely an inch between them.

The soft glow of the city lights illuminated his sharp features—the dark stubble lining his jaw, the faint scar cutting through his brow, those sinful lips curved into that infuriating smirk.

He was the most dangerously beautiful man she had ever seen.

And he knew it.

Ella’s fingers gripped the railing behind her like a lifeline. "You’re playing games with me."

Nicholas’s eyes darkened, his smirk fading. "No."

He leaned in, his voice dropping to a low murmur.

"This... whatever this is between us... it stopped being a game the moment you walked into my life."

Ella’s heart flipped.

Her lips parted, but no words came out.

For a moment, she forgot how to breathe.

The air between them crackled—thick with tension, with something raw and dangerous that neither of them could name.

Nicholas’s eyes flicked down to her lips again, and this time—

Ella didn’t stop him.

His mouth brushed hers—light as a feather, almost reverent. It wasn’t rushed or careless. No, he kissed her like he was savoring her, like he had all the time in the world and wanted to memorize the exact shape of her mouth, the taste of her skin, the way her breath hitched when his tongue gently teased the seam of her lips.

He didn’t demand—he persuaded.

Each movement was deliberate, unhurried, filled with a dark patience that made her tremble. His mouth moved over hers in a slow, devastating rhythm, coaxing rather than taking, letting the tension stretch and burn. He kissed her like he wanted to ruin her for anyone else.

When she finally opened for him, the kiss deepened. His tongue swept inside—confident, controlled—exploring, tasting, claiming. He tilted his head slightly, angling for more, and she could feel the restrained hunger pulsing beneath his composure. His hand slid up her back and tangled in her hair, tugging just enough to make her gasp against his mouth.

That tiny sound made him groan—a low, primal noise that vibrated against her lips—and he pulled her closer, until every inch of her was pressed against every inch of him.

But even then, he didn’t lose control. His kiss stayed just on the edge of roughness, always measured, always in command.

He kissed like a man used to getting what he wanted—but tonight, he made it feel like she was the one with the power.

And that, somehow, was even more dangerous.

Ella melted into him without thinking, her body betraying her mind completely. Her hands slid up his chest, gripping the collar of his shirt as if she could anchor herself to him.

She had never been kissed like this before—like she was something precious.

Like she was something wanted.

Nicholas kissed her harder—deeper—like he was finally letting go of the control he always held so tightly.

Ella was dizzy, drunk on him.

When they finally broke apart, both of them were breathing hard.

Nicholas’s forehead pressed against hers, his fingers digging into her waist like he was fighting the urge to pull her right back in.

Ella’s chest rose and fell in shallow breaths.

Her lips felt swollen.

Her mind was spinning.

"I—" she started, but the words caught in her throat.

Nicholas’s thumb brushed along her lower lip, his eyes dark and hungry.

"Don’t say anything," he murmured. "Not yet."

Ella’s heart fluttered.

She didn’t know what she would have said anyway.

Because all she could think about was how much she wanted him to kiss her again—how much she wanted him, period.

But she couldn’t.

Could she?

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

She was supposed to be getting her life back together—not falling into bed with a man like Nicholas.

He was everything she should run from.

Everything she couldn’t have.

But when his fingers tilted her chin up—

When his lips brushed against hers again—

Every warning screaming in her head melted away.

Just one night, she told herself.

One night to forget.

But deep down—

Ella knew one night would never be enough.

Not with him.

Not with Nicholas.