Falling for my boyfriend's Navy brother novel Chapter 318

**TITLE: Wrong person 318**

**Chapter 318**

She’s nestled in the passenger seat, half-dreaming, her head gently resting against the cool glass of the window. The delicate flutter of her lashes casts soft shadows on her flushed cheeks, a picture of serene beauty. I don’t utter a word; instead, I deliberately ease off the accelerator, letting the car glide through the quiet streets. The city seems to hold its breath tonight, enveloped in a hush that feels almost sacred, as if it recognizes the significance of this moment. It grants us the space we need to breathe, to exist in our own little world.

As I pull into the driveway and turn off the engine, I choose not to disturb her slumber just yet. I simply sit there, watching her.

She shone like a star tonight—no, not just any star, but one that even the brightest celestial bodies would envy. Now, as the adrenaline fades, she radiates a soft glow, basking in the aftermath of her performance.

Her eyes flutter open slowly, as if she can sense my gaze upon her. “We’re home?” she murmurs, her voice thick with sleep.

“Yeah,” I reply softly, reaching over to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “Come on, angel.”

She hums in response, a sleepy sound that warms my heart, blinking as I open the door for her and help her out. She doesn’t say much; instead, she leans against me, allowing me to guide her inside, a silent trust hanging between us.

Inside, the house wraps us in warmth. The dim light casts soft shadows, creating a cocoon of intimacy. I kick off my shoes, the familiar comfort of home washing over me. I start to peel off my jacket, but when I glance back, I find her still standing in the middle of the entryway, swaying ever so slightly. She looks drained yet beautiful, a fragile flower after a storm.

Her tired smile is soft, imbued with trust.

“I got you,” I whisper, the promise hanging in the air.

I step closer, kneeling in front of her, my fingers brushing the hem of her black leggings.

She inhales sharply, and I can sense the anticipation radiating from her.

I know what she’s expecting, what she thinks this moment signifies.

But tonight isn’t about that.

Tonight is solely about her.

With a gentle touch, I lift one foot, then the other, slowly peeling off her socks, my thumbs rubbing over her arches. She sighs deeply, a sound that tells me just how much she needed this simple act of care. I rise to my feet, pressing a soft kiss on her tired shoulder, then trailing my lips to the spot beneath her ear.

“Let me take care of you,” I murmur, my voice a low promise.

She nods, small and silent, her eyes reflecting a mixture of fatigue and gratitude.

I take my time, untying and unzipping her hoodie, kissing the fading bruise on her collarbone—a reminder of a missed lift during rehearsal last week. The angry red mark is a testament to her dedication, and I want to ease the tension in her shoulders. I trail my lips over every sore spot, as if my kisses can absorb the ache from her body. Then, in one fluid motion, I lift her into my arms, and she doesn’t protest. Her arms wrap around my neck, her head finding a resting place on my shoulder.

I carry her to the bathroom, gently setting her down on the bench beside the tub.

I turn on the hot water, watching as it fills the tub, steam rising in lazy tendrils. I add fragrant oils that smell like vanilla and almond, an indulgent amount of bubbles, and her favorite bath salts. The steam curls around us, creating an atmosphere of tranquility.

As she starts to reach for her underwear, I gently stop her.

She makes a small, vulnerable sound when I pull her back against my chest, and I wrap my arms around her, my hands resting over her belly before sliding up to cradle her ribs. I rest my chin on her shoulder, feeling the warmth of her body against mine. The bubbles shift between us, but the heat remains, wrapping us in a cocoon of comfort.

She melts against me, surrendering completely, as if she belongs there, as if she’s finally safe enough to let go and unravel.

We sit in silence, the water lapping gently at our skin, the flickering candlelight dancing over her wet hair and flushed cheeks. I rub slow circles over her back, her arms, the insides of her wrists. I trace my thumbs over her knuckles, over the calluses that speak of years of training and dedication.

I kiss the back of her neck, letting the warmth seep into our bones, a shared heat that binds us.

After a while, she turns to face me, curling into my lap.

Her legs drape over mine, and I pull her closer, our foreheads resting together, a silent connection that speaks volumes.

We don’t need words.

Because everything she just danced, everything she just gave—

I vow to spend the rest of my life ensuring she knows:

She’ll never have to come down from that high alone.

Not while I’m breathing.