under his shadows

Chapter eleven : The waiting

Laura's pov

His apartment was too quiet.

Laura sat on the edge of the couch, then stood, then sat again -she had repeated that pattern so many times the cushions were starting to imprint her shape.

She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to absorb some of the warmth left in the fabric of his coat. Its smelled like him -clean, dark and expensive.

It made her feel safe.......It made her feel something she wasn't ready to name.

He'd barely said where he was going.....just that soft, steady command '' Stay here. ''

She had bristled at the possessiveness, and then melted under it.

The clock on the wall ticked too loudly and she hated it. She hated waiting.

She hated not knowing what he was doing -what he might me sacrificing for her.

Because she knew.

Even if he didn't say it, even if he pretended it was just '' business, '' she knew exactly what kind of man he can become when someone hurt the people he cared about.

And that terrified her......not because of him, but because of what it meant.

She liked that he cared.....Too much.

Her fingers brushed her lips, remembering the kiss -slow, consuming, both a promise and a warning.

She shouldn't have let it happened......she shouldn't have done it.

But the memory of it was the only thing keeping her from falling apart completely.

She tried to distract herself. she cleaned.

she reorganised the stack of books on his kitchen counter.

She opened a window and immediately closed it again because the cold air made the apartment feel too empty.

Every few minutes she checked her phone. Nothing.

She hated that too.

At one point she walked into his bedroom -just to feel less alone -and stopped when she saw the faint crease in the pillow where his head had been the night before.

She touched it. stupidly, like it could somehow bring him back.

Her throat tightened. what are you doing, Laura.......she whispered to herself.

a soft clink from the hallway made her snap upright, heart slamming against her ribs.

Footsteps.....Not rushed, not hesitant......Just controlled.

Him.

She exhaled shakily, relief flooding her so sharply it hurt. She wasn't ready to see him. She wasn't ready for what his eyes would reveal.

But she still walked toward the door.

When it opened,and he stepped inside -sleeves rolled down, expression unreadable, a shadow of something dangerous still clinging to him - she felt her pulse trip.

He looked at her like he'd been thinking about her the entire time.

You're back, she breathed.

His gaze softened. only for her.

Of course I am ''........And for a moment - just a moment the world felt whole again.

Here is the tension — slow, intimate, charged, but not crossing into the explicit.

His presence against her breath.

Her fear and want tangled together.

He didn’t touch her at first.

He just stood there, the door clicking shut behind him, watching her like she was the only thing in the room that mattered.

And maybe she was — because the rest of the world seemed to fall away until it was just the two of them and the air stretched tight between their bodies.

Laura swallowed.

He noticed.

He always noticed.

“You’re hurt,” she said quietly.

I’m not.

His voice was low, even, but she saw the faint redness on his knuckles, the tension in his shoulders he hadn’t quite forced out yet.

She stepped closer.

A single cautious step.

His eyes tracked it like a predator watching something precious and forbidden wander closer to his teeth.

“Don’t lie to me,” she whispered.

He exhaled through his nose — not annoyed.

Something else.

Something he didn’t usually let slip.

You shouldn’t worry about me.

“But I do.”

That landed. Hard.

His jaw flexed, as if the words hit him somewhere he wasn’t ready for.

He moved a little closer — only inches — but the effect felt seismic. She could feel his warmth now. Feel the gravity of him.

“Laura.”

Her name wasn’t spoken; it was breathed, like he was trying not to lose control of something inside himself.

Her fingers tightened in the fabric of the jacket she still wore — his jacket.

He glanced down at it, and that look…

Dark.

Possessive.

Softened only by the faintest shine of worry beneath it.

You shouldn’t be wearing that, he murmured.

She blinked. “Why?”

His eyes lifted to hers, and for the first time since he walked in, he let her see the truth.

Because I can’t think straight when you do.

Her breath caught.

He took another step, and their bodies were almost touching — close enough that she could feel the heat radiating off him, close enough that she knew he would stop if she stepped back.

But she didn’t.

Tell me what happened, she said, quietly demanding.

She needed to hear it. Needed to understand the shadows still clinging to him.

His gaze softened at her insistence — no one talked to him like that. No one dared.

But she did, and he let her.

“It’s handled,” he said.

That’s not what I asked.

His lips twitched — not a smile, but the ghost of one.

You really want to know?

I want you to trust me enough to tell me.

Another hit.

He looked away for half a second, as if checking his control, then back to her.

I protected you.

A beat.

And I’d do it again. Every time.

Her heart hammered.

Not out of fear.

Out of the terrifying realization of what that meant — what he was willing to do for her, what he already had.

She reached up without thinking and lightly touched his hand.

Barely a brush.

But he froze, as if the contact sent something sharp and warm straight through him.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

His eyes darkened — desire, restraint, relief, confusion — a storm she didn’t know how to calm.

He stepped forward until her back met the wall behind her, not trapping her, but surrounding her. Caging her in with the quiet intensity of a man who wanted her too much but was still trying to be gentle.

You shouldn’t thank me, he murmured, close enough that she felt the breath of the words on her skin.

“You should run from me.”

She looked up at him, unflinching.

I’m not running.

The muscle in his jaw jumped. His hands hovered on either side of her but didn’t touch, his restraint shaking at the edges.

If she leaned forward even a little, he would crash.

And for the first time, she wasn’t sure that was a bad thing.