Chapter 5 In my arms

The gala had been perfect - at least on the outside.

Flashing lights, expensive laughter, clinking champagne glasses, and polished smiles that said everything's fine, even when everything wasn't.

But for Cole, it had been a battlefield.

Too many conversations, too many pretenses, too much pressure to perform - to be Edward Woods' first son, the successful CEO, the picture-perfect heir no one quite accepted.

So when the last fake handshake was done, when the doors closed and the valet returned his car, he didn't go home.

Instead, he drove aimlessly - his phone buzzing with unread messages, none of which he answered. His suit jacket was off, tie loosened, his white shirt slightly creased from the tension he carried like a second skin.

Eventually, he parked his car without realizing where he was - not until he looked up and saw the porch light glowing in the dark.

Nancy's apartment.

His pulse flickered.

He didn't think. He just got out and walked up to her door, heart beating faster than he'd admit.

He knocked once.

Then again, slower.

When the door opened, Nancy stood there in shorts and a soft oversized tee, her face painted with surprise.

"Cole?"

He looked... not like her boss. Not like the composed man she saw every day in tailored suits and cold confidence.

He looked tired. Disarmed. Beautifully undone.

He didn't speak right away. Just stood there for a moment, breathing, his eyes slightly dimmer than usual.

"I didn't know where else to go," he said finally, voice low and rough with exhaustion.

She blinked, stepping aside instinctively. "Come in."

He walked in slowly, like the weight on his shoulders refused to lift. Nancy closed the door, her brows furrowed with worry. She went to the kitchen without a word and returned with a glass of water.

He took It from her hand with a grateful nod, their fingers grazing briefly - the contact sending heat rushing up her arm.

"Thank you," he murmured.

She stood silently as he drank, watching him closely.

Then, setting the glass aside, he looked at her.

"Can I..." His voice faltered slightly. "Can I spend the night here?"

The question made her heart skip.

Her lips parted, caught between surprise and something deeper she didn't want to name. But before her mind could talk her out of it, her heart answered.

"Of course," she whispered.

She took his hand - without hesitation - and led him down the hallway to her small guest room.

The room was dim, the soft glow of a bedside lamp casting a warm halo on the sheets. She turned back to face him, unsure of what to say.

But then, in that moment of hesitation, he did something that shattered the silence.

He reached for her hand again.

And didn't let go.

"Can you stay?" he asked. "Just... for a while."

Nancy nodded, not trusting her voice. They both lay on the bed, side by side. No words. Just quiet breathing and the soft ticking of the clock on the wall.

He didn't touch her at first.

But eventually, as if drawn by something he could no longer resist, he slid his arm around her waist, gently pulling her into him.

And she didn't move away.

Her heart thudded in her chest as she felt his breath on the back of her neck, his body curved into hers.

Safe. Warm. Close.

Their fingers tangled lazily beneath the sheets.

They didn't talk. They didn't kiss.

Not yet.

But just before sleep claimed them both, Cole pressed a slow, lingering kiss to her forehead - a kiss full of silent meanings and unspoken feelings.

Nancy's eyes fluttered open for a second, her lips parting slightly at the tenderness.

But he was already drifting off.

And wrapped in his arms, so was she.

The early morning sun filtered through the half-closed blinds, casting soft golden stripes across the room. Nancy stirred first, slowly waking to the quiet sound of steady breathing behind her.

Cole.

He was still there.

Warm.

Real.

His arm was draped around her waist, fingers relaxed but protective - like even in his sleep, he wasn't ready to let her go.

She turned carefully in his embrace to face him.

His eyes were still closed, lips slightly parted, hair tousled in a way she never got to see at the office. He looked younger like this. Softer. Human.

She studied him quietly for a while, heart beating far too fast for someone who hadn't even gotten out of bed.

Then she smiled to herself, gently pulling out of his arms.

It was time for breakfast - and maybe a reality check.

She padded quietly into the kitchen, pulled her hair into a loose bun, and set to work, trying to shake the electricity buzzing under her skin.

But as she cracked eggs into the pan, she felt eyes on her.

She turned.

Cole was standing in the doorway, shirtless, wearing only the sweatpants she had folded for him last night. His eyes were on her - not just watching, but devouring. As though seeing her like this - in her kitchen, in his clothes, in the daylight - lit something in him that hadn't stopped burning since the night before.

"You should've stayed asleep," she whispered with a soft smile.

"I couldn't," he said, his voice rough with sleep and something deeper. "You weren't beside me."

The spatula trembled slightly in her hand.

She turned back to the pan, cheeks warm. "I thought I'd cook. You must be starving."

"I am," he murmured, stepping closer. "But not for food."

She felt his presence behind her before she felt his hand - slow and deliberate - rest on her waist.

Her breath caught.

"Cole..."

He brushed his nose against her neck, breathing her in. "Tell me to stop."

She didn't.

Instead, she turned in his arms and looked up into his eyes - the ones that always seemed to be hiding something, now wide open, staring only at her.

"I don't want to stop," she said softly. "Not if this is real."

He cupped her cheek. "It is."

And then he kissed her.

It wasn't rushed. It wasn't reckless.

It was slow - like time paused for them.

Their lips moved in perfect rhythm, mouths exploring, tongues tasting. His hands slid down her waist, pulling her closer, and she melted into him like she was made for him.

He lifted her gently onto the counter, never breaking the kiss, her legs wrapping around him instinctively.

Clothes came off in pieces - slowly, reverently.

Fingers traced curves and scars. Eyes drank in skin and silence. Breaths mingled in the tiny space between them.

When he finally entered her, it wasn't with haste. It was with awe.

As if this - her - was something sacred.

They moved together like waves meeting shore. Her head fell back, a soft moan escaping her lips, and he kissed down her neck, her collarbone, her chest - worshipping her with every stroke, every breath.

Their bodies spoke louder than words.

She clung to him, nails digging into his back, while he whispered her name like a vow against her skin.

And when they reached that peak together, trembling and gasping, it wasn't just release.

It was surrender.

---

Afterward, they stayed tangled in each other on the kitchen floor, the half-cooked eggs long forgotten.

Nancy rested her head on his chest, his heart beating steadily beneath her cheek.

Neither of them spoke for a long time.

Until finally, Cole murmured, "I've never felt anything like this before."

She looked up at him, lips brushing his jaw.

"Me neither."

And in that stillness - bare, breathless, and completely exposed - they both knew:

This wasn't just about need anymore.

It was about love.