The room was still dark when Nyxia opened her eyes.
For a moment she did not understand why her body felt so restricted.
Then the weight around her waist registered, solid and unmoving.
Wilder’s arm locked her in place, his chest pressed against her back, one of his legs tangled with hers.
The heat of him surrounded her on every side.
She shifted, trying to create even a small space to breathe.
The movement made her freeze.
He was still hard.
The clear, firm pressure against her lower back had not faded in the slightest.
Nyxia’s eyes widened in the dark.
How was that possible?
Hours had passed.
She had assumed it would have calmed down by now.
Instead it remained, unmistakable even through the layers of fabric between them.
She tried to ease forward again, careful and slow.
The result was worse.
The slight drag of her body only made the contact more obvious, rubbing against him in a way that sent a jolt of panic up her spine.
Behind her, Wilder let out a low sound in his sleep.
His arm tightened at once, pulling her back into his chest with more force than before.
His hips shifted forward, pressing harder against her, as if even half-asleep he refused to let her leave.
Nyxia stopped moving completely.
Any further attempt would only grind her against him.
The thought alone made her stiffen.
If he woke up fully in this state, she was not certain he would still hold the same restraint as earlier.
Her heart beat fast against her ribs.
She stared into the darkness and forced herself to stay still, accepting the cage of his arms because she had no safer option.
Her gaze dropped to their hands.
At some point during the night his fingers had found hers.
The platinum ring on her finger sat against his skin, caught between their joined hands.
From this angle it looked deliberate.
Natural.
The image of a husband holding his wife through the night.
The longer she stared at it, the more the sight unsettled her.
Having her back to him also felt wrong.
The hard line of his body stayed pressed against her without relief, impossible to ignore.
After a long moment of hesitation, Nyxia carefully began to turn.
She moved in small stages, pausing every time his breathing changed.
Wilder made a rough sound in his throat, his arm flexing as if he thought she was trying to escape again.
Before he could pull her back with more force, Nyxia finished turning and guided his head down against her chest.
His face met her skin.
For a second he tensed.
Then the resistance left him.
He settled against her, nuzzling closer in his sleep, mouth and nose pressed into the warm curve of her chest as if he had found a place he had no intention of leaving. Read this novel at novelping . com for the best experience.
The soft fabric of the dress had shifted enough that his cheek rested directly against her bare skin.
Nyxia looked down at him.
In sleep, his face was different.
The sharp edge he carried during the day had faded.
His brow was smooth, his mouth relaxed, the usual arrogance nowhere to be seen.
He looked peaceful.
Almost gentle.
The contrast with the man who provoked her, cornered her, and answered her challenges without hesitation felt strange enough to hold her attention.
Wilder shifted again, pressing his face more firmly into her chest, seeking the softness and warmth without waking.
His breath spread across her skin, steady and intimate.
Each exhale brushed against her, too close, too real.
Nyxia’s face heated.
This position was a mistake.
She had turned to escape one kind of contact, only to place him directly over the sound of her heartbeat.
Every breath he took seemed to sink deeper into her awareness.
She could feel the weight of his head, the faint movement of his lips against her, the way his arm still claimed her waist as if it belonged there.
She closed her eyes and forced her breathing to slow.
Sleeping again was the only way to endure the awkwardness.
If she stayed awake, she would keep noticing everything, the heat of him, the ring on her finger, the quiet sounds he made while using her chest as a pillow.
She focused on the darkness behind her eyelids and waited for exhaustion to pull her under.
It took a long time.
✼ •• ┈┈┈┈๑⋅⋯ ୨˚୧ ⋯⋅๑┈┈┈┈ •• ✼
Morning light filtered through the curtains.
Wilder woke first.
For a moment he remained still, registering the soft weight beneath his cheek and the faint scent that filled his breath.
Then awareness sharpened.
His head was resting on Nyxia’s bare chest.
One of his arms was still wrapped around her waist.
Her body rose and fell in an even rhythm under him, warm and pliant with sleep.
A slow sense of satisfaction settled over him.
He turned his face slightly and rubbed his cheek against the soft skin beneath him, almost without thinking.
The softness yielded under the motion.
He did it again, more deliberately this time, then pressed a light kiss against her skin.
Then another, closer to her skin, the kind of small, greedy kiss that came from pure liking rather than restraint.
Nyxia stirred.
A ticklish sensation pulled her out of sleep.
Still half-conscious, she shifted, brows drawing together as the soft scrape of his mouth registered against her chest.
Her eyes opened in a daze, unfocused at first until she looked down and found Wilder’s head nestled against her bare skin, his lips brushing her as if he had every right to be there.
Her body jolted.
“WILDER…!”
Nyxia jerked upright at once, heat rushing to her face.
She pushed his head away and scrambled back, one hand flying to her chest as if she could erase the sensation of his mouth against her skin. The source of this chapter is g.com.
The dress had shifted during the night, leaving more of her exposed than she realized.
Wilder propped himself up on one elbow, looking far too pleased for someone who had just been shoved.
Before either of them could speak, a knock sounded at the door.
“Sir,” a servant’s voice came from the hallway.
“Breakfast is ready.”
Wilder glanced at the door, then back at Nyxia.
“Come eat.”
“I need to shower first.” Nyxia pulled the blanket higher, still flustered.
“You go ahead.”
“No.”
He got off the bed, took her wrist in one smooth motion, and pulled her up with him.
Nyxia stumbled forward, trying to free her hand.
“Wilder, I said…”
“You can shower later.” He opened the door without loosening his grip.
“Eat first.”
He led her down the stairs still holding her hand, as if afraid she might turn around and escape back to the room.
In the dining area, the table had already been set.
Wilder pulled a chair out for her and waited until she sat before taking the seat beside her.
The servants began placing the dishes one by one.
Plates of warm food, clean cutlery, fresh juice.
Everything looked ordinary until one of the maids lifted her eyes toward Nyxia.
The girl’s face turned red at once.
She lowered her gaze almost immediately, lips pressed together as if holding back something.
Nyxia frowned.
“Is something wrong?”
The maid shook her head too quickly.
“N-nothing, Madam.”
“You’re staring.”
The maid’s ears grew even redder.
After a short, awkward hesitation, she lifted one hand and pointed discreetly toward her own chest.
Nyxia followed the gesture in confusion then looked down at herself.
Her breath caught.
Faint red marks bloomed across the upper curve of her chest, just above the neckline of the dress.
Not dark enough to be glaring from a distance, but clear under the morning light.
The kind left behind by a mouth that had lingered too long.
Her whole body went still.
For a second she could only stare.
Then panic surged up so fast she nearly stood from the chair.
One hand flew to her chest, fingers pressing against the marks as if she could hide them after the fact.
Across the table, Wilder leaned back in his chair.
One arm rested along the side, his posture loose and open, as if the entire room belonged to him.
A faint smile tugged at his mouth quiet, arrogant, and thoroughly satisfied as his eyes settled on the marks he had left on her skin.