The ride back was quiet.
Wilder’s hand stayed wrapped around Nyxia’s from the moment they left the mall.
Even when she shifted in her seat or reached toward the paper bags near her feet, his grip only adjusted, never released.
His palm felt warm, almost too warm, and the longer he held on, the more she noticed the faint dampness between their skin.
“You can let go,” Nyxia said.
“No.”
“I need to fix the bags.”
“I’ll do it later.”
She turned her head toward him.
His eyes remained on the road, expression calm, as if locking her hand inside his was the most natural thing in the world.
The pressure of his fingers stayed firm.
Not painful, but constant.
Claiming.
Nyxia looked down at their joined hands.
*What do you actually want from me?*
The question turned over in her mind without rest.
He had panicked earlier.
When she let Clara’s name slip, he had not looked pleased or curious.
He had looked unsettled.
Almost afraid.
A man who only wanted to play a temporary game would not react like that.
Did he want her assets?
Her company?
The thought rose and fell just as quickly.
Wilder Reed already stood far above her in scale.
His businesses covered more ground, carried more weight, and moved larger numbers than hers ever had.
He did not need her shares.
He did not need her name.
Then what?
She stared at the hand holding hers.
The same hand that had once only appeared across meeting tables and cold negotiations.
Now it held her as if releasing her for even a second was unacceptable.
Her enemy, the man she had opposed for years, was clingy.
The realization sat strangely in her chest.
By the time they returned to the house, the sky had already darkened.
The staff took the bags without being asked.
Nyxia went upstairs first, exhaustion settling into her shoulders after a full day of walking, choosing, and keeping up the act.
In the bedroom, she opened the new skincare products one by one.
The textures felt different from what she used to buy for herself, richer, smoother, clearly expensive.
She applied them without hurry.
Then she changed into the dress Wilder had chosen earlier at the boutique.
The fabric was soft against her skin.
It followed the line of her waist and hips without effort, simple in design yet impossible to ignore.
She stood in front of the mirror for a moment, surprised by how natural it felt on her body.
When she turned, Wilder was already at the doorway.
He had not announced himself.
He simply stood there, one shoulder resting against the frame, eyes moving over her from head to toe.
There was no sharp smile this time.
No obvious teasing.
Just a steady, open stare that made the air in the room feel tighter.
Nyxia’s face warmed.
She sat down, then shifted further in, as if the mattress could put distance between them.
Wilder followed.
The mattress dipped under his weight as he sat close beside her.
Too close.
His presence filled the space she had tried to keep empty.
“You look good,” he said.
Nyxia kept her eyes on the blanket.
“It’s just a dress.”
“It suits you.” His voice dropped lower.
“I knew it would.”
He reached out and brushed a strand of hair away from her cheek.
His fingers lingered near her jaw, tracing the line of her face with slow attention.
Nyxia’s shoulders tensed, but she did not pull away at once.
“I’ve been watching you all day,” Wilder continued.
“The way you walked ahead of me.
The way you ordered me to carry those bags.
Even the way you tried to empty my card.” A faint breath of amusement left him.
“Still, you looked beautiful doing it.”
Nyxia’s throat felt tight.
“Stop talking like that.”
“Why?” He leaned closer.
“You’re my wife.
I can praise you if I want.”
Before she could answer, he tilted his head and pressed a kiss against her cheek.
Soft.
Controlled.
Yet the contact sent a clear tremor through her body.
Her fingers curled into the blanket.
Wilder’s mouth moved nearer to the corner of her lips, then down along her jaw.
His hand settled at her waist, palm spreading over the soft fabric of the dress, feeling the shape of her beneath it.
He kissed the side of her neck once, then again, slower.
“Wilder…”
“You’re trembling,” he murmured against her skin.
“Is it rejection… or something else?”
Nyxia closed her eyes for a second.
The warmth of his mouth, the weight of his hand, the closeness of his body, all of it built too quickly.
Her breathing grew uneven.
He shifted further over her, guiding her back against the pillows.
One of his knees pressed into the mattress beside her thigh.
His hand slid from her waist to her hip, then lower along the line of the dress.
He kissed her collarbone, then the soft space just above it, lingering there as if testing how far she would allow him to go.
“You’re quiet now,” he said, voice rough at the edges.
“Earlier you had so much to say.”
Nyxia turned her face away, heat climbing from her neck to her ears.
“This wasn’t… part of the plan.”
“What plan?”
She bit down on the rest of the sentence.
She could not say it.
She could not admit that sleeping with him had never existed in her version of this act.
He kissed the underside of her jaw, then returned to her cheek, her temple, the corner of her mouth, never fully taking her lips.
Each contact stayed deliberate.
Controlled.
Heavy enough to make her pulse race.
“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to touch you like this,” he said quietly.
“Having you here.
In my bed.
Wearing what I chose.
Looking at me like that.”
Nyxia’s breath caught.
Her body reacted even as her mind pushed back.
This was Wilder.
Her enemy.
The man she had fought in business and disliked for years.
Letting the night go further would change something she was not ready to name.
“I can’t,” she whispered.
Wilder’s movement slowed.
“I’m not ready,” Nyxia said again, stronger this time.
“Not tonight.”
For a moment he stayed above her, close enough that she could feel the heat of his breath.
His eyes searched her face.
The desire in them was clear, undisguised, and far heavier than his usual teasing.
Then he exhaled and dropped his forehead briefly against her shoulder.
“Alright.”
The word came out tight, but he did not push again.
He shifted to the side and pulled her into his arms in one firm motion.
Her back met his chest.
His arm locked around her waist, solid and unyielding, leaving almost no space between them.
One of his legs settled against hers, completing the hold.
Nyxia felt it at once.
Something hard pressed against her lower back through the fabric of their clothes.
Clear.
Impossible to ignore.
Her body stiffened in his arms.
Wilder noticed.
His arm only tightened further around her.
“Don’t move too much,” he muttered near her ear, voice strained.
“I’m already holding back.”
Nyxia remained still, heart beating fast against the cage of his arm.
Fear mixed with an unexpected sense of relief.
He wanted her.
That much was obvious.
Yet when she refused, he stopped.
No force.
No anger.
Only this crushing, restless embrace and the proof of his restraint pressing against her.
The room fell quiet except for their breathing.
Wilder’s face rested near the back of her head, his breath warm against her hair.
His hand stayed spread across her stomach, fingers occasionally flexing as if the effort of staying still cost him something.
Nyxia stared into the dim space in front of her, still feeling the ring on her finger, the heat of his body, and the hard line of him against her back.
She had entered this house thinking she could use him.