Chapter 123: I Will Take Care of You (Part 2)

When the bodice finally came undone, Levan did not move away. His hands stayed at her waist steadily. It was as if he were giving the moment room to decide what it wanted to become. The space between them felt suddenly smaller, narrowed by quiet breaths and the awareness of how close they stood.

Ilaria let out a relieved exhale as the last of the bodice loosened, leaving her in nothing but her chemise. Her shoulders eased, and the tension she had been carrying slipped away. For a heartbeat, she simply stood like that. Then she lifted her gaze to him, lashes fluttering as her breathing settled.

The air between them thickened, charged with something raw and new. The rustle of fabric, the rise and fall of their breaths, even the faint comfort of the room felt heavier. The familiar comfort of the chamber had shifted imperceptibly like a calm settling before a storm, though neither of them realized it yet.

“You said you couldn’t scold me,” she cooed, affection threading through her voice with a faint hint of triumph.

Levan did not answer immediately. Instead, he stepped closer, slow enough that she could stop him if she wished. When she did not, his arms came fully around her waist, enclosing the space there as if it belonged to him only because she allowed it.

“Mm,” he exhaled against her, a soft vibration that carried straight to her pulse. “I did.”

Her hands slid upward as he leaned in, brushing along his chest and shoulders before curling around his neck. She did not need to stretch or stand on tiptoe; he bent just enough, drawing himself to her with an almost magnetic grace so that every inch of him was hers to meet without effort.

“Then don’t,” she whispered.

There was a pause.

Ilaria’s gaze drifted absentmindedly, from his eyes to his mouth, then back again as if she were tracing him rather than looking. She could feel the way his attention followed the movement instinctively, how his focus caught and stayed, how even his breathing seemed to falter for a beat as he mirrored her without realizing.

Her lashes lowered before lifting again, eyes holding his with a certainty that asked nothing and allowed everything.

“Because if you’re not scolding me,” she smiled, “then you’re allowed to stay.”

In that moment, Levan’s gaze darkened. Not in the way that made him look intimidating, but enough to make her pulse quicken and her knees weaken. Slowly, he pulled her closer. The space between them shrank until Ilaria had to tilt back on her heel the faintest step just to keep the air between them.

“As if I ever leave even when you ask like that,” he said, almost feral, the words vibrating against her ears more than they needed to.

Ilaria drew in a labored breath, a shiver chasing its way down her spine under the weight of his gaze. Still, she lifted her chin, that same teasing light glinting in her eyes. “So… that means I can…?” she crooned, leaving the rest suspended between them.

His jaw flexed at the hint of challenge, a subtle tension betraying the pull he felt. He had stood unshaken before sharper provocations and colder tests of will. But none of them had stood this close. None of them had ever been her.

“You don’t get to tempt me and pretend there would be no consequences,” he warned, squeezing her waist as his gaze flared as if to prove a point. But his hands stayed where they were, betraying the restraint he was losing. He felt it the moment she knew.

Ilaria’s arms tightened around his neck in answer, her fingers sliding into the nape of his hair as if she had already decided how this would go. Levan’s pulse jumped, a flush creeping along his neck as heat pooled low in his belly, making him wonder how her touch managed to claim more than he expected.

“You do realize you’re playing with fire,” he added, the words scraped raw.

Her smile went sly as she leaned in, close enough to brush the edge of his composure without crossing it. “Maybe I like it hot.”

Levan went taut, caught like a blade held too long over flame. For one suspended heartbeat, he said nothing. Then a rough laugh broke from him, fervent and rapturous, betraying both his surprise and adoration. Because it was absurd, really, how she could sound so bold and still look so effortlessly sweet doing it.

He dipped his head until their breaths tangled, until the warmth of him surrounded her. His forehead rested against hers like the final thread before surrender. “Aria,” he said, her name dragging from his throat, enflamed and ravaging.

Her lips curled as she tilted her head, opening the smallest space while her hands held him firmly in place. “Yes…?”

That single word shattered what remained of his self-control.

Levan kissed her.

At first, it was delicate, barely more than a brush as if he were still giving her the chance to pull away. She did not. Ilaria leaned into him instead, her mouth parting without hesitation, answering him before he could second-guess himself.

The kiss deepened naturally, drawn out by the soft moan she made against his lips. His hand pressed against the back of her head, while the other slid down her back, gripping the thin fabric of her chemise and bunching it up in his fists as he stepped forward, guiding her without breaking contact.

She moved with him, a half-stumble, a breathless laugh swallowed by his mouth, until the backs of her thighs met the edge of the bed and they went down together.

The mattress dipped beneath their weight as they fell, bodies fitting instinctively as the kiss turned slower and deeper, heated not by urgency alone but by how little either of them seemed willing to let go.

Ilaria hummed against him, a mellow, unguarded sound that vibrated through his chest and drew a low growl from his throat before he could stop it. The reaction surprised them both. Her hands pressed flat against his chest, feeling the heat beneath his tunic, tracing the firmness there as if confirming something she already knew.

Levan’s hands trailed along her thighs, then lower, one settling behind her knee to draw her closer. The shift tilted her toward him, seamless and unhurried, until her body fit more fully against his. He felt the intake of her breath as clearly as his own.

When she parted her lips again, he followed. The briefest brush of his tongue against hers pulled a muted, startled whimper from her, half-hidden and enraptured. It lingered between them, and this time, he smiled against her mouth, entranced by how pristine it sounded and how intentional it was not.

“Aria…” Her name left him roughened, worn thin by containment. She tilted her head at the sound. The faintest flick of her own tongue met his, which did nothing good to the careful discipline he was barely holding together.

And oh, to pull back now would be madness. His mouth found hers again, deeper this time as their tongues met in a slow rhythm. Ilaria sighed into it, her arms clenched around his neck as her body arched to let him feel how completely she yielded to him.

When he finally pulled away, it was only by inches. His lips remained over hers, close enough that she could still feel his warmth. One hand slid up to cup her face, reverent in its gentleness, while the other threaded into her hair, fingers curling, letting her feel his grip.

He studied the flush blooming across her cheeks, the slight swell of her lips from his kiss, the way her chemise had ridden up at her hips from their movements. She looked so undone… so much so that the realization grounded him with a fierce calm that she had been shaped by his touch, and he had no intention of surrendering that privilege.

“You—” he murmured, voice gravelly with need, his breath ghosting across her temple, “you don’t mind the delay… do you?”

Ilaria’s chest heaved beneath him, her breath coming in shallow, uneven quiver. She wanted to answer, to say something clever or teasing, but her voice got caught in her throat, stolen entirely by the rapid rise and fall of her own heartbeat.

Levan’s eyes raked over her, flickering with fervor and wryness as he watched her. He leaned closer, and when his lips brushed the shell of her ear, it was like a spark sliding along her skin, igniting embers she had not realized were there, causing her to whimper.

“You’re not upset, hm? If we… take our time? If the bath waits a little?”

Ilaria’s fingers coiled in his hair, but no sound came. Her lips parted again, her heart beating so fast he could feel it beneath his own. The helplessness in her gaze stoked something primal in him and made Levan murmur with amusement, a predator and a lover all in one.

“Can’t speak?” He asked, bending his head again just to press a fleeting kiss to her lips. “Then I’ll take that as yes…” His words were loving, desperate and drawn out, “…yes, you don’t mind.”

Ilaria gasped, a tiny, windebed noise that made his features twist and lips parting in a beautiful kind of agony. “… so soft… so tempting…” he rasped, voice thick and husky with frustration, his lips ghosting over her temple before tracing the curve of her jaw, as if marking her as his while punishing himself for wanting more. He let her shiver under his touch, letting the slow burn between them stretch just long enough to taste the luscious ache of anticipation.

Ilaria’s mind spun. Her chest rose and fell faster than she could count. This is not like the last time… this is something else. The first kiss had been endearing and moderate, but this… this made heat coil low in her belly and rise to the tips of her fingers, making her tremble against him without permission.

Her hands, still suspended in the air, spoke of her uncertainty, as if moving them too soon might shatter the fragile barrier between passion and temperance. And yet, every nerve in her body screamed for him, for the pressure of his chest beneath her palms, for the way his lips lingered, claiming without asking, daring her to give in.

A wave of tension rolled over her, equal parts confusion and longing as her mind tried and failed to make sense of the fire rising inside her. I shouldn’t… I can’t… but I want it, she admitted silently, cheeks warming, stomach twisting, heart threatening to escape her ribcage.

Before she even realized what she was doing, her fingers fumbled over the buttons of his tunic, setting fire to the quiet ache that had been coiling inside her. The movement was hesitant, almost timid in her innocence, but that was all Levan needed to continue.

He caught her hands in an instant, his own firm and sure, and for a moment, he simply held her gaze, smoldering and molten, before leaning back to unbutton the shirt and peel the tunic away in a single, fluid motion. The fabric fell to the floor with a faint rustle, and suddenly she was staring at him in all his glory.

Her breath hitched as her eyes roamed over him, wide and unblinking. Every line of muscle under his skin shifted as he hovered over her once again, his body moving with effortless strength and a predator’s grace. Her trembling fingers froze mid-air, caught between awe and want, tracing nothing yet aching to trace everything.

Levan’s hands did not relent though, sliding on her back, holding her firmly as he lifted her slightly, muscles taut beneath her palms as she gripped his biceps subconsciously. She gasped again when he shifted her, his strength obvious in every motion and every controlled flex that pressed her closer.

With deliberate care, he slid a pillow beneath her waist, adjusting her back down onto the bed so that she was both supported and vulnerable. The movement was gentle, almost tender, but the way he loomed over her, chest brushing hers, arms caging her in, made her pulse hammer in her ears.

Levan smoothed her hair, eyes scanning her face. She had not spoken a word since he had laid her down, and it made him wonder.

“Why…?” His voice rolled over her like a low tide, lips brushing the pulse on her neck as he leaned close, anchoring her with the weight of him. Ilaria’s ribs lifted rapidly. She tried to respond, but the words tangled in her throat, leaving only the helpless, fluttering sound of breath stolen by his presence.

Levan chuckled softly, a dangerous, velvet sound, and pressed a searing kiss to the corner of her lips. “So quiet,” he purred. Another kiss. “That’s new.”

His hands slid to the hem of her chemise, tugging it up over her stomach with careful, teasing precision until his fingertips brushed the bare skin of her waist. The contact was feather-light, unsuspecting in intent but utterly electrifying, making her dizzy with infatuation.

“Where did my wife go?” he continued tenderly. “The one who never stops talking. The one who always has something clever to say…”

He pulled back to look at her, satisfaction flickering across his face. He lifted his hand to her face again, the pad of his thumb pressing against her chin, nudging gently until her lips parted, still empty of words.

“Hm,” he hummed, eyes darkening. “I suppose I’ve distracted you.”

The corner of his mouth curved again, fond and wicked all at once. “I think I like you like this too,” he spoke assuredly. “All that fire… and suddenly you’ve got nothing to say.”

Ilaria’s hands found his shoulders then, clinging as her body entirely gave up. She could not speak, could not think, could barely draw air at this point.

His hands brushed her cheek for a moment longer before he raised two fingers to his mouth, wetting them with a languid, purposeful ease of his tongue. When his eyes found hers again, they seethed with a sweet ferocity, a silent promise that this moment and all that followed, was entirely his to guide.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep