Page 47 of The Alpha's Runaway Mate
He exhales, the tension in his shoulders easing. “Good.”
The word takes me off guard. “Good?”
“Yeah,” he says quietly. “You need something that’s yours. I get that.”
Something eases in my chest that I didn’t realize was still knotted.
We sit there for a moment, me in the tub, him crouched beside me, steam curling between us. The air hums with warmth and unspoken things.
Finally, he says quietly, “I didn’t mean to make you feel trapped earlier. You were right to call me out.”
I shake my head. “I overreacted. It just... hit a nerve.”
He nods. “Yeah. We’ll figure it out.”
I smile faintly. “We always do.”
His fingers brush mine, rough skin against water, and the spark between us hums alive again.
Nolan leans closer, voice low. “You keep taking baths like this, I’m never gonna get any sleep.”
I laugh quietly, heat blooming under my skin. “Are you saying that’s my fault?”
“Pretty sure it is.”
He kisses me, slow, deep, steady, like it’s the only thing that’s kept him upright all day. The world fades, leaving only the sound of water and his heartbeat against my lips.
He lets his hand slide from my hair down to the back of my neck, thumb tracing slow circles. The tension in him is obvious, the kind that comes from carrying too much for too long.
Without a word, he stands and peels off his shirt, the soft sound of fabric mixing with the quiet rush of the shower.
I open my mouth to say something, but the words dissolve when he steps under the water. Steam curls around him, catching the light on his broad shoulders. For a moment, it feels like the world outside doesn’t exist. No rogues, no danger, no ghosts from either of our pasts. Just this, warm water, quiet air, and the space between us finally easing.
I rinse off, climb out, and wrap a towel around myself as steam curls through the room. The water’s still running, his silhouette blurred through the glass.
I change into one of his T-shirts, soft, worn, hanging loose around my thighs, and crawl into bed. The sheets smell like cedar and soap, like him.
For the first time in what feels like forever, I’m not angry. Just tired, the good kind. The kind that follows a day that mattered.
My phone buzzes on the nightstand.
It’s Paige.
A gif of a cartoon woman wrestling a mountain of receipts flashes on-screen, followed by her message:
PAIGE:Thought of you. See you tomorrow, partner in crime ??
I laugh and type back.
ME:You’re a menace. And yes, I’ll be there. Don’t start without me.
Her reply comes almost instantly:
PAIGE:Wouldn’t dream of it. Sweet dreams, accountant extraordinaire.
Smiling, I set the phone down. Through the half-open door, I can still hear the shower running, the quiet thud as Nolan moves around. The sound is steady. Safe.
I curl onto my side, pulling the blanket up. The warmth seeps in, heavy and comforting.
