His Nanny Mate - Season 3 Episode 88

Ella

The crimson hue that painted my cheeks felt hotter than the finest wine.

“Dance?” I echoed, a mix of incredulity and apprehension dripping from the word. Logan’s smirk only deepened, his gaze roving over me in a manner that was equally taunting and enticing.

“Wine just has a way of making me want to move,” he said, taking a step closer, his body. swaying lightly to the gentle rhythm of the song playing in the background. “Especially to a song like this. Don’t you feel it?”

Biting my lip, I fidgeted on the spot and took a step back. “I… I don’t really know how to dance,” I admitted, though it felt more like a weak excuse to get out of having to get close to him. He raised a brow in surprise.

“You? Ella Morgan, heir to the Morgan legacy, doesn’t know how to dance? Weren’t there galas, balls, and all sorts of fancy parties where dancing was practically a requirement?”

Rubbing the back of my neck sheepishly, I nodded. “They did make me take lessons. Loads of them. But,” I paused, seeking the right words, “I was a bit of a tomboy growing up. Always running around in the mud, climbing trees. Those dancing lessons? I sat there, arms crossed, as sullen as a raincloud. Refused to learn a step.”

A chuckle escaped Logan’s lips, and his eyes sparkled with amusement. “So, the rebellious little heiress. You continue to surprise me, Ella. How about now? Fancy a quick lesson?”

Though a part of me-the part that was still stung by our earlier disagreements-wanted to refuse, the ambiance, the wine, and perhaps Logan’s magnetic pull made me shrug.

“Why not?” I finally relented. “But don’t laugh if I step on your toes.”

“That’s part of the learning process,” he quipped, extending a hand. Accepting it, I found myself pulled into his embrace. The warmth of his body was palpable, and the proximity made my heart race.

The first few steps were a disaster. I stumbled, nearly tripping over my own feet, but Logan’s hold was secure. With a gentle firmness, he guided me, his laughter light and teasing but not unkind.

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As the minutes ticked by, I began to notice just how fluidly he moved. Logan was a natural dancer, his steps graceful and assured.

I couldn’t help but glance up at him, admiration evident in my eyes. Our gazes locked, and I saw something shift in his-a tenderness, perhaps. Something far different and far softer than the mafia guy I had come to know.

The realization made me blush even more deeply. Caught in the rhythm and each other’s eyes, the world outside seemed to fade. The gentle strumming of the guitar, the soulful lyrics-it all created an atmosphere of intimacy, pulling us even closer.

Our movements began to synchronize, my initial clumsiness melting away with Logan’s guiding hand.

“See?” Logan said, smirking down at me. “Not so bad, is it?”

I felt my cheeks tinge a shade of red. “I guess not,” I murmured. “Maybe I was a bit crass for refusing to dance all these years.”

Logan chuckled. “Or maybe you just never had. the right partner.” My face turned even redder, but we continued moving together, as one.

But as the final chords of the song resonated in the still air, reality came rushing back. Our faces were mere inches apart, our breaths mingling.

My heart, which had been racing the entire song, now felt as if it was about to leap out of my chest. We teetered on the brink of a kiss. The music was still, but the tension between Logan and me was palpable, electric. Our lips hovered, almost touching.

The anticipation was so thick it was almost unbearable. But just as the world seemed to fade, my instincts kicked in, propelling me away from him. I was out of breath, my chest heaving, my mind in chaos.

“No,” I murmured. But Logan, seemingly undeterred, took a step forward, his fingers finding mine. With a gentle tug, he pulled me into the embrace I had just fled from. Our faces were close, so close that I could feel the warmth of his breath against my lips.

“It’s just a kiss, Ella,” he whispered, his voice low, coaxing. His blue eyes, darkened with desire, locked onto mine. “I like you. I really like you. Maybe it’s this whole ‘fated mates’ thing. messing with our heads, but right now, I couldn’t care less about reasons. I want to kiss you.”

A growl rumbled deep in my chest. His words, as sincere as they sounded, felt like an intrusion-a trespass into the sanctuary of my emotions. With a surge of strength, I shoved him off, creating a distance between us once more.

“I don’t feel anything of the sort,” I declared. defiantly. But within me, my wolf called my bluff. “Liar,” she chided, her voice dripping with a mix of amusement and annoyance. “You want to. Both of us want to.”

“Stay out of this!” I snapped back at her internally, my emotions a whirlwind of conflict. Tossing my hair over my shoulder in a show of defiance, I fixed Logan with a glare, my eyes aflame with a mixture of anger and something else-something deeper.

“If you ever try that again,” I warned, my voice low and deadly, “I’ll slice you open with these.” As I spoke, my claws, sharp and deadly, began to protrude from my fingertips.

There was a visceral shift within me, a callback to my more primal instincts. My canines elongated into fangs, and my ears, normally rounded, sharpened to fine points – a throwback to the fiery little girl I once was, the one who would throw tantrums that would terrify even the toughest of warriors.

I stood there, half transformed, both a testament to my strength and a warning to any who might challenge it.

Logan, for his part, seemed momentarily taken aback. But rather than cower or retreat, he raised his hands in a placating gesture, his expression a mix of regret and understanding.

“I’m sorry, Ella,” he said quickly, his voice earnest. “I didn’t mean any harm. I got carried away. Blame it on the wine.”

Every fiber of my being screamed at me to remain on guard, to stay in this state of heightened alertness. But another part, a softer, more rational side, acknowledged his sincerity.

Slowly, my more beastly features began to recede. My claws retracted, my ears rounded, and my fangs disappeared, replaced by a more human countenance. But the fire in my eyes remained.

“You should leave,” I told him, my voice more composed but no less firm. It was a statement, not a request.

Logan looked taken aback, but he quickly masked his surprise. “Ella, I’ve had a bit too much wine. I shouldn’t drive.”

My mind raced, trying to find a solution. Finally, I grabbed a plush blanket from the back of the couch, tossing it at him.

“Then sleep here,” I ordered, pointing at the couch. “But don’t expect breakfast.”

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Without waiting for a response, I rushed to my bedroom, locking the door behind me. My back. pressed against the solid wood, my breathing ragged. A flurry of emotions swirled within me -desire, anger, confusion.

“Why did you push him away?” My wolf prodded, its tone a mix of curiosity and frustration. “Because it’s complicated,” I retorted, sinking down to the floor, resting my head in my hands.

The night’s events had been a whirlwind, and as sleep beckoned, the weight of it all threatened to crush me. Curling up on my bed, I pulled the covers tightly around me, trying to find solace in the embrace of the night.