The Stranger I Married-Chapter 36: A dream

A sharp knock echoed through the stillness, jolting Ella awake.

Her heart slammed against her ribs, breath catching in her throat as the dream dissolved into the darkened room. Her body was burning—cheeks flushed, skin damp, the ghost of Nicholas’ hands still lingering on her hips.

It was a dream?

Her mind struggled to catch up, still drunk on the heat that felt far too real. Her pulse pounded in her ears as she sat up slowly, trying to steady her breathing. The knock came again—firm, impatient.

"Ella?"

Her stomach clenched at the sound of his voice.

Oh God.

Her heart climbed into her throat as she glanced at the door, panic flickering in her chest. For one terrifying second, she wondered if she had somehow crossed some invisible line—if he knew what she had been dreaming about.

"Ella," Nicholas’ voice came softer this time, a little more curious. "Are you awake?"

She scrambled out of bed, tugging the oversized t-shirt she slept in lower down her thighs, trying to calm the wild thrum in her chest. Her legs still felt weak—like they remembered something her mind was trying to convince her had never happened.

Her hand trembled on the doorknob as she cracked it open.

Nicholas stood on the other side, leaning casually against the doorframe—shirt unbuttoned at the collar, sleeves rolled up, the faint scent of whiskey still clinging to him.

And there they were.

The glasses.

Just like in her dream.

Ella’s breath caught in her throat, eyes wide as they fixed on the thin black frames perched on his nose. He looked devastating—unfairly good. Like something conjured straight out of her subconscious and brought to life.

Nicholas’ brows lifted slightly, his dark eyes flicking over her face, taking in the flush in her cheeks, the way she was gripping the door like it was the only thing keeping her upright.

"What’s wrong with you?" he asked, low and amused. "You look like you’ve seen a ghost."

Ella’s heart was in her mouth.

You have no idea.

"N-Nothing," she stammered, her voice an octave higher than usual. She glanced away quickly, focusing on some invisible spot on the wall behind him. "I just— I wasn’t expecting anyone."

Nicholas’ lips curved at the corners, like he could smell the lie on her.

"You weren’t expecting me?" His voice dipped lower, teasing. "Who were you expecting at this hour, dolcezza?"

Ella’s stomach flipped at the nickname, heat creeping up her neck.

"I—no one," she muttered, shifting awkwardly from one foot to the other. Her eyes flicked back to him—straight to the glasses again before she could stop herself.

Nicholas’ smirk deepened, catching exactly where her gaze had landed.

"You’re staring." His voice was silk-wrapped sin, his head tilting slightly. "Do you like them?"

Ella’s breath hitched, her face heating violently.

Holy shit.

The dream was still clinging to her skin like a second layer, making it impossible to think straight. Every time she blinked, she could still feel his mouth on hers, his hands sliding over her body—like her mind couldn’t separate fantasy from reality.

"I—" She forced herself to look away, but it only made her more flustered. "You— I didn’t know you wore glasses."

He pushed them up with one finger, his smirk lazily amused.

"Only for reading," he murmured, echoing the exact words from her dream.

Ella’s stomach bottomed out.

Her head snapped toward him so fast she nearly gave herself whiplash. He was watching her like a predator playing with its prey—dark eyes sharp, tracking every flicker of her expression.

He had no idea.

He couldn’t know.

Could he?

"You’re acting weird, little vixen." His voice was softer now, curiosity laced beneath the teasing. He leaned a shoulder against the doorframe, arms crossed loosely over his chest. "What were you dreaming about?"

Ella’s heart seized.

Her eyes shot to him, panic flickering in their depths.

Does he know? How the hell would he know?

"N-Nothing." She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, her fingers trembling slightly.

Nicholas’ smirk stretched wider, like he could taste the lie before it even left her mouth.

"Nothing?" He drawled slowly, like he was savoring the word. "That’s funny... you’re flushed. Breathing heavy. Eyes a little glazed." His gaze dragged lazily over her face, over the way her shirt was slipping off one shoulder. "If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were having very interesting dreams."

Ella’s face burned, her breath catching in her throat.

He’s messing with me.

He didn’t know. He was just teasing her—poking at her like he always did.

Still, the way he was looking at her made it hard to breathe—like he was trying to peel back layers, searching for whatever dirty little secret she was hiding.

"Shut up," she muttered, crossing her arms over her chest.

Nicholas’ grin was pure wickedness.

"Touchy, aren’t we?"

Ella’s pulse throbbed painfully in her throat. She shifted again, fingers digging into the doorframe.

"Why are you even awake?" she snapped, desperate to steer the conversation anywhere but back to her.

Nicholas’ smirk never wavered.

"I couldn’t sleep." He lifted the glass still in his hand, the ice clinking softly against the sides. "Whiskey helps."

Ella’s eyes flicked to the glass, her pulse stuttering.

Just like in the dream.

Her stomach twisted violently.

What the hell is happening to me?

"Can I come in?" he asked suddenly, voice softer now.

Ella’s breath caught.

"No."

Nicholas’ brows lifted in lazy amusement. He didn’t look the least bit offended.

"No?" he echoed, smirking. "Why not?"

Because if he crossed that threshold, she wasn’t sure she could survive it.

Because she could still taste him on her lips—even if it had only been in her head.

"Because it’s late," she blurted out, hugging her arms tighter around herself.

Nicholas leaned in slowly, his face just inches from hers. His voice dropped lower, like a secret between them.

"I think you’re scared of being alone with me."

Ella’s breath caught.

He was too close.

Too warm.

Too much.

"I’m not scared of you," she whispered, but it came out weaker than she intended.

Nicholas’ smirk turned downright sinful.

"No?" He tilted his head, studying her. "Then why are you blushing?"

Ella’s throat bobbed, heat blooming across her chest.

"You’re impossible."

His grin stretched wider, slow and lazy—like he was enjoying every second of watching her squirm.

"You’ve been tossing and turning all night, haven’t you?" he murmured, voice like smoke. "What were you thinking about, little vixen?"

Ella’s stomach clenched so hard she thought she might actually pass out.

Him.

You.

Your mouth. Your hands. Your fucking glasses.

She squeezed her eyes shut, willing the images away.

"You," she whispered before she could stop herself.

The second the word slipped out, her eyes snapped open—wide and horrified.

Nicholas’ smirk froze.

For one long, agonizing heartbeat, the air between them went still.

Ella’s heart slammed against her ribs, panic flooding through her veins.

"I mean—" she stammered, already backtracking, heat crawling up her neck. "Not like that. I was just—"

Nicholas’ smirk returned slowly—darker this time, sharper around the edges.

"Me?"

Ella’s mouth opened, then closed, no sound coming out.

Nicholas leaned in even closer—so close his breath brushed against her lips.

"Were you dreaming about me, Ella?"

Her heart stopped.

The way he said her name—low and rough, like a promise—sent a shiver down her spine.

Ella’s knees nearly buckled.

He knows.

She could see it in his eyes now—that slow, dangerous glint. He was enjoying this far too much.

"I—" she started, but Nicholas was already grinning like the devil himself.

"I knew it." He murmured, brushing his thumb along the edge of his glasses. "Naughty little vixen."

Ella’s face flamed, her whole body vibrating with humiliation.

"Go to hell, Nicholas."

His grin only widened.

"After you."

Then, before she could slam the door in his smug, gorgeous face—he leaned in, so close his lips nearly grazed her ear.

"Sweet dreams, dolcezza."

Ella’s breath caught.

By the time she finally found the courage to close the door, her heart was still pounding, her legs weak beneath her.

She pressed her back against the wood, closing her eyes tightly.

Sleep wouldn’t be coming anytime soon.

Not when Nicholas was already haunting her—awake or asleep.