HERMIONE
I felt the soft weightlessness as Dylan carefully lifted me into his arms, his strong grip holding me securely against him. My body, exhausted from the day's emotions, didn't resist. I let my head rest against his shoulder as he walked, carrying me like I weighed nothing at all. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat against my ear was calming, and I found myself closing my eyes, drifting closer to sleep.
When we reached the room, he gently lowered me onto the bed. His hands lingered for a moment as if making sure I was comfortable, before he tucked the blanket around me. He brushed a strand of hair away from my face and bent down, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead.
"Get some rest, babe," he murmured, his voice a soothing balm that promised safety and comfort.
I nodded, too tired to say anything, already halfway between sleep and waking. But just as he moved toward the door, he turned off the light, the soft click of it plunging the room into a quiet darkness.
For a few minutes, I tried to let sleep take over, but the comfort of the bed only made me restless. I shifted beneath the sheets, unable to get comfortable, my thoughts racing in the stillness of the night.
I finally gave up and sat up, running a hand through my tangled hair. The bedside lamp cast a soft glow, and in the dim light, I noticed something that made my stomach twist with confusion.
The room around me wasn't familiar.
I looked around the room and switched on the full light, my heart skipping a beat as I realized I wasn't in my apartment, even my bedroom. This wasn't my space at all.
I blinked a few times, trying to make sense of it. The room was massive, and the decor had a masculine edge to it—deep wood tones, dark furnishings, and sleek, sharp lines that gave it an imposing yet elegant feel. The bed was large and framed in dark metal, with high-thread-count sheets that shimmered slightly in the faint light. There was a large dresser with minimalistic design, and across from me, a massive wall of glass windows gave the room a sense of space, though the heavy drapes kept the outside world at bay.
My heart pounded as panic started to rise in me. Where am I?
I immediately swung my legs over the side of the bed, my bare feet hitting the cool floor. The soft plush carpet underfoot did nothing to calm the sudden unease that gripped me. I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself.
"Dylan?" I called out, my voice shaky, barely above a whisper.
A few moments later, I heard the sound of footsteps, and the door opened, revealing Dylan standing in the doorway. He wasn't wearing a shirt.
I froze.
The sight of him without a shirt was… overwhelming. My gaze traveled over him, unable to stop itself, from his broad chest down to his taut abs and the way his jeans hung low on his hips. His shoulders were sharp and defined, his arms thick with muscle, and the light from the lamp caught the faint lines of his six-pack abs. He looked every inch the billionaire, his presence as commanding without his shirt as it was with it.
My body reacted before my brain could catch up—heat blooming in my chest, my stomach clenching in a way I wasn't ready to face. Damn him. Damn those abs.
His eyes widened when he saw me staring. "What's wrong? Why were you saying my name?, why were you panicking".
I didn't move, still rooted in place, unable to tear my gaze from him. I could feel my pulse quicken, my breath hitching as I tried to gather my thoughts. I hadn't expected this—him, like this. It was almost too much to take in.
Dylan looked down at himself, then back at me, realization dawned on him. "Ah, I guess I should've thrown on a shirt," he said with a small, amused chuckle.
He turned and walked into his large walk-in closet, leaving me standing there, stunned by the sight of him. I couldn't help but stare after him, still trying to process everything.
When he returned, he was dressed in a simple black T-shirt, which did nothing to dull the effect he had on me. He sat down next to me on the bed, his expression softening.
"So," he began, his voice smooth, but laced with concern, "why were you screaming, Hermione?"
I bit my lip, trying to find the words. My heart was still racing, the remnants of the shock keeping me frozen in place. "I… I woke up, and I didn't know where I was. I didn't see you, and it scared me," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper.
Dylan's features softened, and he reached out, pulling me into his arms. His warmth enveloped me, and I sighed in relief, feeling the tension that had built up slowly fade away. He held me close, without saying a word, as if letting the silence reassure me.
When we finally broke the hug, he spoke softly, "I brought you here after you fell asleep in the car. You were so tired, and I didn't want to disturb you by driving you all the way back to your place. I just brought you here instead. We don't have to go anywhere tomorrow. It's the weekend. We can just stay in and enjoy the time together."
I nodded against his chest, feeling the weight of his words settle over me. I didn't need anything else—just him, here, with me.
"Okay," I whispered. "That sounds perfect."
We stayed like that for a while, in the comfort of each other's arms, as the world outside continued on without us. For now, it was just us, and that was enough.