When they reached her apartment, Lena unlocked the door and stepped inside, Ethan following quietly behind her.
"Go wash up and get comfortable," Ethan said gently, his voice calm, careful not to rush her.
Lena nodded, "I'll be quick," she murmured, grabbing a clean t-shirt and shorts from her dresser before disappearing into the bathroom.
The moment the door clicked shut, Ethan exhaled softly and took a seat on the edge of her bed.
He looked around her room, simply taking in the quiet, personal pieces of her life. The soft, worn comforter. The books stacked neatly on her nightstand. The faint, comforting scent of her that lingered in the air.
He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, rubbing his palms together absently as he waited.
The faint sound of running water from the bathroom filled the silence.
He tried not to imagine how vulnerable she must have felt tonight. He also tried not to think about how badly he wanted to fix everything for her.
A few minutes later, the bathroom door opened quietly, and Lena stepped out, dressed in a loose, comfortable t-shirt and soft shorts, her damp hair falling around her shoulders.
She paused when she saw Ethan sitting there on her bed, looking up at her with such open tenderness that her breath caught.
"I still can't believe that you're here," she said softly, her voice almost breaking.
"I will always be here if you need me," he said simply, standing and crossing the short distance between them.
He opened his arms without a word, and after a heartbeat of hesitation, Lena stepped into them.
He pulled her close, his hands settling low on her back—steady, sure, grounding her like she might float away if he didn't anchor her.
"You're safe," he whispered into her hair.
Lena clutched the front of his shirt and buried her face against his chest.
After a while, Ethan pulled back slightly, his thumb brushing tenderly across her cheekbone. His eyes drifted to her damp hair still clinging to her skin.
"Where's your dryer?" he asked gently, a soft smile tugging at his mouth.
Lena blinked, a little dazed, and pointed toward the bathroom. "Under the sink."
Without hesitation, Ethan moved to retrieve it. He plugged it in, tested the heat briefly against his palm, then returned to her.
"Sit," he said, his voice low, warm, full of care.
Lena sat cross-legged on the edge of her bed without thinking, her eyes wide as Ethan knelt behind her and gently gathered her hair.
Ethan worked slowly, gently, his fingers combing through her hair in careful, steady strokes between passes of the dryer.
His knuckles brushed lightly against the nape of her neck, and every touch sent little sparks dancing across her skin. At one point, when he leaned closer to adjust the angle, she could feel the faint warmth of his breath against the side of her neck.
Lena swallowed hard, her hands gripping the hem of her t-shirt to keep herself grounded.
Being with Ethan felt so easy, so right, like slipping into something she hadn't even known she was missing.
When he finally finished, Ethan set the dryer aside and ran his fingers through her hair one last time, smoothing it out with a care so gentle it made her heart ache.
"You're beautiful," he murmured, almost like he couldn't help himself.
Lena turned slightly, catching his gaze—and the way he looked at her made her feel like she was the only thing that mattered in the world.
She opened her mouth to say something but Ethan was already leaning in.
He cupped her face gently and kissed her, slow and deep, with no rush or urgency—only a steady heat building between them.
Lena leaned into him, her fingers finding their way to his shoulders, his chest, desperate for more of him, more of the feeling he brought crashing into her.
His hand still gripped her waist possessively, his thumb tracing slow, teasing circles over the thin fabric of her shirt. Lena bit her lip, her gaze flickering down to the prominent bulge straining against his pants before darting back up to meet his smoldering stare.
"You're testing my self-control, sweetheart," Ethan murmured, his voice rough with need. He leaned in, brushing his lips against the shell of her ear, sending a shiver down her spine.
"One more kiss, and I won't be able to stop." Lena's breath hitched as his fingers slid beneath the hem of her shirt, his touch searing against her bare skin. She arched into him instinctively, her body craving more. But Ethan was a man of his word, he wouldn't take what she wasn't ready to give.
With a low groan, he forced himself to pull away, resting his forehead against hers. "We should… slow down," he said, though his body betrayed his words, his arousal still pressing insistently against her.
Lena nodded, her cheeks flushed, her heart pounding. She knew he was right—but that didn't make the ache between her thighs any easier to ignore.
Ethan pressed one last, lingering kiss to her lips before sitting up, running a hand through his tousled hair. "Maybe I should go," he said.
Lena caught his wrist before he could move too far. "Stay," she whispered. "Just… hold me."
His expression softened, and with a slow exhale, he stretched out beside her, pulling her close. His arms wrapped around her, strong and secure, his body still warm with lingering desire. As Lena tucked herself closer against him, her cheek resting lightly against his chest, a heavy, lingering guilt still gnawed quietly at her heart.
After a long moment, she pulled back just enough to look up at him, her fingers still clutching the fabric of his shirt.
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I dragged you into the headlines... into the tabloids. I didn't mean to cause trouble for you or Calloway Holdings."
Ethan's brows furrowed immediately, and he brushed a gentle hand down the side of her hair.
"Hey," he said, his voice firm but soft. "You didn't drag me into anything. The media will always find something to twist. You didn't do anything wrong, Lena."
She bit her lip, hesitating before asking the next question.
"And the board?" she murmured. "How did they react?"
Ethan gave a small, almost dismissive shake of his head.
"They grumbled a little," he said honestly. "But I made it clear that it's none of their business. They care about results, not rumors. As long as I run the company right, they can live with a few headlines."
Lena exhaled slowly, relief flickering through her chest.Still, the guilt didn't completely fade.
But before she could say anything else, Ethan shifted slightly, cupping her cheek in his hand.
"And I'm sorry too," he said quietly, his thumb brushing over her skin in slow, calming strokes. "I thought... staying away for a few days would protect you. I thought it would make things easier."
He swallowed, his voice thickening slightly.
"But all I did was leave you alone today. When you needed someone, I wasn't there."
Lena's heart twisted sharply.
She shook her head, reaching up to cover his hand with hers.
"You came," she said simply. "You're here now."
Their eyes locked, and the weight of everything—guilt, longing, forgiveness—passed between them without needing to be said.
"I don't want you to ever feel like you're alone again," Ethan murmured, his forehead resting lightly against hers. "Not if I can help it."
And as her eyes drifted shut, the last thing Lena heard was his soft whisper, "it's getting late, sleep well Lena."
*****
Soft morning light filtered through the sheer curtains, casting a gentle glow across the room.
Lena stirred first, blinking sleepily as her senses slowly drifted back into focus. For a moment, she stayed perfectly still, her cheek resting against something warm and solid.
Then it hit her— Ethan.
He was still there, right where he had promised to be.
Lena shifted slightly, careful not to wake him, and tilted her head up to look at him.
He was reclined against the headboard, his arms still loosely wrapped around her, his breathing deep and even with sleep. His face, usually sharp with focus and strength, was completely relaxed now. She had never seen him like this. Unshielded. Here and with her.
Lena stayed tucked against him, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, listening to the slow rise and fall of his breath.
She could have stayed like that forever.
But a few minutes later, she felt him shift slightly beneath her, his chest lifting with a deeper inhale as he stirred awake.
Ethan blinked groggily, his arms instinctively tightening around her as if afraid she might disappear.
Slowly, his gaze found hers—still hazy with sleep, but the moment he focused on her, a soft, sleepy smile curved his lips.
"Morning," he rasped, his voice rough and low, sending a shiver down her spine.
Lena flushed slightly, suddenly shy under his gaze. She looked away for a second, only for Ethan to gently tilt her chin back toward him with two fingers.
"You're beautiful in the morning," he said, his voice quieter now, like he was sharing a secret just for her.
Lena let out a breathless laugh, the sound small and helpless. "You're still half-asleep," she teased gently, trying to hide how much the words warmed her from the inside out.
Ethan chuckled, the sound deep and lazy, vibrating through his chest where her hand still rested.
"Doesn't change the truth," he murmured.
He shifted, pulling her fully against him, tucking her beneath his chin as he leaned back against the pillows.
Lena curled into him without hesitation this time, their bodies fitting together so easily.
Some time later, after drifting in and out of sleep, Lena stirred slightly under the covers, the morning light brushing softly against her closed eyes.
Ethan was still there, wrapped around her like a living shield, his arm heavy over her waist, his body pressed close, his steady heartbeat thudding against her back.
As she shifted, trying to turn over, Ethan stirred too—murmuring low against her hair—and tightened his hold, pulling her back against him firmly.
"Lena," he rasped, his voice thick with sleep, deep and rough in a way that sent a shiver through her.
She turned in his arms, her face inches from his, and the moment their eyes met—sleepy, raw, full of unguarded tenderness—something warm and electric crackled between them.
Without thinking, Lena reached up and brushed her fingers lightly along his jaw.
Ethan caught her hand midair, pressing a kiss into her palm, then into the inside of her wrist, slow and deliberate.
She sucked in a soft breath, feeling her whole body respond to the simple, intimate touch.
His hand slid down to her waist, fingertips brushing the bare skin between her t-shirt and shorts, his touch achingly slow, reverent.
"You sure you want to get up?" he murmured, his lips ghosting across her temple, her cheekbone, leaving a trail of warmth that made her breath hitch.
Lena's fingers tightened slightly against his shirt, her heart thudding hard against her ribs.
For a long second, neither of them moved.
Then Ethan leaned in and captured her mouth in a kiss—not hurried or frantic, but deep and consuming, his mouth moving against hers with a slow hunger that made her toes curl under the sheets.
His hand slid up her back, pulling her even closer, molding her against him as he kissed her like he needed her to breathe.
Lena melted into him, her hands finding their way into his hair, tugging lightly as the kiss deepened, and grew hotter.
She gasped softly when he angled her head just right, his lips taking more, asking for more, giving more.
The heat between them rose, thick and undeniable, but Ethan still moved with aching control, letting her feel every ounce of restraint he was holding onto for her.
When they finally broke apart, both breathing harder, their foreheads rested against each other. Ethan smiled, a low, lazy smile full of something deeper than just desire.
"I could stay like this all day," he whispered.
Lena smiled breathlessly, her cheeks flushed, her body humming with heat.
"Tempting," she whispered back, brushing her nose lightly against his. "But we do have to eat."
He groaned dramatically, making her laugh softly.
Reluctantly, Ethan loosened his hold, but not without pressing one last, lingering kiss to her lips, as if he couldn't quite help himself.
"Stay here," she whispered, sliding out carefully from beneath his hold.
Ethan murmured something under his breath but stayed put, his body sprawling lazily across her bed, utterly at ease.
Lena shook her head with a soft laugh as she padded barefoot to the kitchen, pulling her hair into a loose, messy bun.
She didn't have much, just a few basics, but she managed to start brewing coffee and pulling together some eggs and toast.
She moved around the small kitchen with easy familiarity, the smell of coffee slowly filling the air, blending with the soft morning light spilling through the windows.
A few minutes later, she heard slow, heavy footsteps behind her.
She turned to see Ethan standing there, sleep-tousled, barefoot, wearing just his jeans and the plain black t-shirt he'd slept in.
He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed loosely, watching her with a lazy, amused smile.
"You look dangerous," he said, voice rough with sleep.
Lena raised an eyebrow at him, cracking an egg into a pan. "Dangerous?"
"Yeah," he said, pushing off the doorframe and sauntering toward her. "Making coffee in tiny shorts and an old t-shirt? Totally lethal."
She laughed, feeling a blush creep up her neck. "You're ridiculous."
Ethan grinned, slipping behind her to grab two mugs from the shelf, his body brushing lightly against hers as he moved.
The simple, domestic closeness between them, the way they moved around each other without thinking, made Lena's heart squeeze with a painfully sweet ache. It felt easy. It felt right.
She plated some toast and eggs onto two plates and slid one toward him on the counter.
Ethan caught her hand lightly as she tried to pull away, his fingers wrapping gently around her wrist.
"You know," he said, voice low, "I could get used to this."
Lena met his gaze, heart stumbling at the simple honesty there. So could she.
But instead of saying it aloud, she just smiled, slipping her hand free so she could sit opposite him at the small kitchen table. They ate quietly, comfortably, stealing little glances at each other between bites.