I leaned against the smooth, dark wood of the wall, the coolness a stark contrast to the fire building in my chest. The dim light in the room painted shadows across his face, accentuating the sharp planes and dangerous intensity in his eyes. Our embrace, so sudden and fierce moments ago in the elevator, had softened here, but the heat between us remained, a simmering undercurrent that threatened to boil over.
My breath came in shallow bursts, a faint "HUFF" escaping me as his lips grazed mine again. The room was silent aside from the rapid thrum of my heartbeat—BA-BUMP, BA-BUMP—so loud it seemed to echo off the walls. Each beat reminded me of the closeness, the risk, the gravity of this moment.
His hands moved with deliberate precision, brushing over the clips in my hair. TAP. Then, almost ceremoniously, he reached for the delicate necklace resting at my throat. CLINK. The cool metal lifted away, and my skin shivered under his touch. I whispered, barely audible, "THAT TICKLES."
His fingers were feather-light, ghosting across the nape of my neck. Unlike the hurried roughness of the elevator, here his movements were measured, slow, and intimate. My pulse raced, my mind struggling to reconcile the deliberate calmness with the electric heat crawling over my skin.
BA-BUMP. Another surge of warmth spread across my chest.
Then, with meticulous care, his fingers reached for my white gloves. I held my breath. SLIP. The silky barrier slid from my hand, leaving me bare in his grasp. His hold tightened, SQUEEZE—firm, confident, yet not cruel. I felt simultaneously vulnerable and anchored, a paradox that made my stomach twist.
His gaze traveled to our clasped hands and lingered there for a moment, dark amusement playing across his lips before returning to my eyes. "You were acting very confident earlier," he murmured, voice low and teasing, "yet it seems you're more nervous than you let on… judging by how sweaty your hand is."
Heat rushed to my cheeks, mortification washing over me in a wave. I wanted to disappear. "Wouldn't it be strange not to be nervous?" I countered, trying to sound composed despite my pounding heart.
"EMBARRASSED." The word flashed through my thoughts. My composure snapped completely. "Take your fingers out of there! I'll remove them myself!"
I tugged at my hand, but his grip was unyielding. The teasing glint in his eyes was almost unbearable. He knew I was flustered, and he was clearly reveling in it.
"W-wait...!" I gasped, my voice thin and shaky.
"What is it?" His voice was soft, velvet-dark, carrying a dangerous undertone. "Having second thoughts now? It's too late to back out."
I tried to form words of protest, but none came. The closeness, the warmth, and the undeniable tension stole them from me. "I'm just feeling a bit nervous," I admitted, voice barely above a whisper. My gaze fell to the shadows in the room, avoiding his eyes. Why am I only this embarrassed when I'm with him?
A faint KISS, so soft it was almost imaginary, made me look up. His lips touched his own, and his eyes were heavy-lidded, teasing. "I see. I appreciate the honesty."
His gaze dropped to my hands, still encased in delicate gloves. A tug, a deliberate pressure, and I flinched. "Take your fingers out of there!" I hissed, panic threading through my embarrassment. "Do you intend on ripping my gloves too?"
"Stay still," he commanded. The gentleness in his tone contradicted the steel in his words.
SLIP. PLOP. The gloves fell to the tiled floor. My bare hand was now in his grasp, fully exposed. My breath caught. A dizzying rush of vulnerability and desire washed over me.
He drew me closer, strong arms wrapping around my waist, hands resting lightly on the fabric of my dress. "It's all right. Just close your eyes," he whispered, breath warm against my ear. "First, I'm going to focus on you. Go slow… take my time."
I didn't resist. I leaned into him, surrendering to the warmth of his body, the deliberate slowness of his touch. The frantic rhythm of my heartbeat began to slow, giving way to a new cadence, a rhythm in sync with the weight of his gaze, the promise in his words. I closed my eyes, letting anticipation stretch, savoring the tension that bound us together.
The intimacy was profound, every brush of his fingers and whisper of his breath magnified in the quiet room. I was acutely aware of him, of the heat of his body, the power in his presence, and the depth of control he wielded—yet there was no fear, only a thrilling surrender to the moment.
I realized, in that suspended moment, that this was no longer a test, no longer a game of dominance. It was an exchange of trust, a lesson in letting someone see your vulnerabilities while simultaneously igniting a fire neither of us could contain.
The air itself seemed thick with expectation, and I was fully immersed in the delicate, intoxicating interplay of touch, anticipation, and the unspoken promise between us.
With my eyes still closed, as Eiser had instructed, every sense sharpened to a knife-edge. The faintest sound of his breath, the subtle shift of his weight, even the quiet rustle of fabric against skin, felt amplified in the darkened room. I felt the heat of his body pressed against mine, every contour of him pressing into me, and the scent of him—a clean, masculine aroma, layered with something faintly intoxicating—flooded my senses.
A slight TWITCH ran through me, a tremor of nerves and anticipation I couldn't quell, and I clenched my hands slightly on his shoulders to steady myself.
"Place your arms around my neck and lean on me," he murmured, his voice low, vibrating against my ear. The warmth of his tone sent shivers down my spine.
I obeyed instinctively, lifting my arms, fingertips brushing the soft hair at his nape. His shoulders were broad and firm beneath the thin fabric of his shirt, and leaning into him felt both utterly natural and forbidden at the same time. My heart hammered in my chest, BA-BUMP, BA-BUMP, each beat a warning of the fire building within me.
Following his instructions, I closed my eyes and focused entirely on the sensations—the press of his chest against mine, the heat of his arms cradling me, the strength that seemed to hold me completely without effort. The warmth he radiated was more than physical; it was a deep, consuming heat that seemed to ignite beneath my skin. Each place his touch lingered tingled, sensitive in ways I hadn't known possible. My body betrayed me, a delicate surrender, drawing me closer despite every rational thought I might have had.
I gasped softly, a sound of involuntary surrender, and felt myself lose strength. HNGH... I had no choice but to hold onto him for dear life, my head tilting back, exposing the delicate line of my throat as I clung to him. The room around us seemed to spin, the faint blue light from the window flaring, softening, turning the shadows into a haze around our entwined forms.
And then, as if sensing my mounting vulnerability, Eiser lifted me into his arms. The sudden motion forced me to clutch him tighter, face buried against his shoulder, breath coming in shallow, shaky bursts. He held me effortlessly, a pillar of anchoring strength in the whirlwind of my emotions. I could feel the slight tremor in his own body, a mirrored intensity, a shared electricity that pulsed between us.
The air was thick with anticipation, every movement deliberate, every breath shared. My body felt acutely aware of him—the warmth, the weight, the solidness of his arms—but also the intimacy of his restraint, the controlled patience underlying his actions. I leaned against him, feeling a heady mixture of safety and desire, a paradox I hadn't expected to experience so strongly.
I wasn't sure when he had removed his jacket and shirt, but now, Eiser stood before me with the crisp white shirt of earlier half-unbuttoned, revealing the sharp planes of his chest, the defined contours of his muscular torso catching the dim light. Each POP of buttons, each soft CLINK of his belt, punctuated the charged silence of the room, mingling with the fast beat of my heart.
My silk gown had slipped away silently, falling in a quiet FLOP to the floor, leaving me bare and vulnerable on the bed. I leaned back against the pillows, chest rising and falling rapidly, my skin tingling under the lingering touch of the last moments. The blue light spilling from the window painted him in sharp relief, accentuating the sculpted lines of his body and the dangerous intensity in his eyes.
A pause fell between us. The quiet gave me the courage I had been holding back, a thought finally surfacing that I had been desperate to voice since we arrived. I sat up slightly, fingers nervously clutching the soft sheet beneath me. "I have a question," I said, my voice barely above a whisper, tinged with heat and uncertainty.
Eiser's movements slowed, and he paused mid-gesture, his hand lingering over the knot of his necktie. The casual precision with which he undid it contrasted sharply with the storm of anticipation in the room. His gaze locked on me, sharp, direct, challenging, as if daring me to speak.
"Have you ever imagined... doing this sort of thing with me?" I blurted, the words tumbling out faster than I intended. My cheeks flamed as the weight of my question hit the room.
Eiser cocked an eyebrow, the barest smirk playing on his lips. "'Doing this sort of thing'?" he repeated, mimicking my phrasing as though teasing me.
I felt heat rising hotter than ever. "I mean… touching me… or the other things you did to me just now," I clarified, clutching the sheet tighter. "Did you ever think about doing such things... before we came to your cottage?"
His eyes remained unflinching, unwavering, as he finally finished pulling the tie away from his neck. The slow, deliberate reveal of his chest—each curve, each plane highlighted in the dim light—was almost hypnotic. He was taking his time, savoring the moment, letting my words hang between us like a provocation he thoroughly enjoyed.
"Imagine... doing it with you?" he repeated, slow, deliberate, letting the words stretch, carrying the weight of teasing and desire.
A low, rich chuckle escaped him. "Quite the scandalous question for a princess like you to ask." He stepped closer, the bed sinking slightly under his weight. His eyes glittered in the dim glow, piercing me with their intensity. "Why do you want to know?"
This expansion reaches the passage you specified, keeping all internal thought, dialogue, and physical sensations fully detailed, while building tension and intimacy in a layered, immersive way.
Eiser's question—"Why do you want to know?"—hung in the air like a spark over dry kindling, igniting every nerve in my body. He stood over me, magnificently shirtless now, the white fabric of his button-down hanging open, accentuating the breadth of his shoulders and the sculpted ridges of his chest. Even before he spoke again, the sight alone made my pulse stutter, my mind teetering on the edge of disorientation.
"Just answer the question," I insisted, trying to inject firmness into my tone, though my stomach fluttered wildly. "I'm simply curious."
My thoughts, however, betrayed me. I had always imagined Eiser as the cold, calculating businessman, his mind ruled solely by strategy, negotiation, and control. The idea that he could harbor even the faintest thought of desire, especially toward me, seemed absurd. Yet, here he was, every movement deliberate, every glance charged, and I was helplessly aware of the electricity crackling between us.
I swallowed hard, clinging to the corner of the sheet, my knuckles whitening. Were thoughts of me actually present in that austere head of his? Did he picture engaging in acts like this with me, even once? I wanted to know.
My attention snagged on his hands. With a swift, powerful motion, he tugged at the partially unbuttoned shirt draped over his torso. The fabric ripped free with a satisfying PULL and slipped from his body—SLIP—and the blue light in the room caught every line of his bare skin. My eyes widened involuntarily. The sheer strength of him, the perfection of his chest and arms, left me breathless.
"W-well?" I stammered, gripping the sheets. "Give me an answer! Have you… or not?!"
Eiser leaned down, closing the gap so that his face hovered inches from mine. His warm breath mingled with mine, sending a shiver down my spine. His eyes, dark and unreadable, pinned me in place as if he could see every heartbeat, every anxious thought racing through me. One hand found my hip, tugging me gently but firmly closer beneath the covers, anchoring me to him in a way that was impossible to resist.
"I'm sorry…" he murmured, his lips barely brushing the shell of my ear. The words sounded like an apology, but the sharp glint in his gaze and the tilt of his smile contradicted them completely.
"But you're being quite the distraction right now."
His body moved even closer, erasing the small space that remained between us. My senses reeled. I could feel the heat radiating off him, the strength in his arms, and the dangerous precision with which he controlled the moment.
"It's impossible for me to focus on the question," he continued, his voice a low, vibrating growl that seemed to resonate in my chest. And then, without further warning, he closed the final inches of space between us.
His face hovered above mine, framed by the dark, tousled hair against the pillow. Every breath he took brushed my skin, every movement deliberate, every shift an assertion of control. And still, he hadn't answered my question.
"It's a simple question," I insisted, though the tremor in my voice betrayed me. "Just say yes or no—"
Before I could finish, a sharp YANK from his hand caught me completely off guard. The last remaining button of my delicate blouse gave way, snapping free with an audible CLATTER as the buttons hit the floor. I breathed out a small, involuntary, "Oh…"—lost entirely in the overwhelming rush of sensation that followed.
Eiser leaned closer, letting his weight pin me gently to the sheets. My gaze flitted away, caught by the deep blue light spilling through the window, a haze that seemed to flicker across his sculpted form. His eyes, dark and intense, locked onto mine again, sending a rush of something hotter than embarrassment through me.
Impossible. I thought, frustrated yet tingling with something else entirely. He won't answer a simple question. Clearly, he knows the effect he has over me—and he relishes it.
Finally, his voice cut through the haze, low and ragged, and it carried the answer in a way I hadn't anticipated.
"Must I really recount all the instances for you?" he asked, a hint of impatience threading through his tone.
He shifted slightly, capturing my wrist in a firm, unyielding grasp and holding my hand above my head. The blue light highlighted the hard planes of his back and shoulders, a display of power and control so complete it left me breathless.
"It's happened countless times whenever I was with you… and touched you," he confessed. The words weren't a whisper. They were raw, undeniable, a declaration of a desire that had been simmering beneath the cold, calculating facade I had always associated with him.
I understood immediately. The look in his eyes, the heat of his grip on my wrist, the measured weight of his presence—all of it confirmed what I had been aching to know. The answer was yes. A resounding yes. Desire, long-suppressed, had always been there, hidden beneath the surface of the man I had thought I knew so well.
Eiser's confession—raw, unflinching, and intensely personal—hung in the air like a charged current, and I felt myself swept away. Every fragment of my remaining resolve dissolved under the heat of his gaze and the weight of his touch. His hand still held my wrist above my head, firm yet somehow grounding me, anchoring me in the middle of a storm I wasn't sure I wanted to resist.
He leaned down, letting a shadow of his hair fall across his face, his eyes glinting with that dangerous, mesmerizing light that I could never quite read. The brush of his lips against mine was feather-light at first, a teasing whisper that sent fire coursing through me. My chest heaved, my heart hammering—THUMP-THUMP-THUMP—in a frantic rhythm that mirrored the chaos of desire racing through my veins.
"Just like this… close your eyes," he murmured, low and husky, each word vibrating against my lips like a command and a promise all at once.
I wanted to speak, to protest, to whisper his name, to ask another question—but no sound emerged. My throat was dry, my body trembling with the mix of anticipation and shame. I squeezed my eyes shut, surrendering completely to the sensations. The world shrank to the warmth of his body against mine, the silk of the sheets beneath me, and the magnetic pull of Eiser himself.
He pulled back slightly, just enough to let me open my eyes, and I caught him staring. His blue eyes were hypnotic, catching the dim light, drawing me in deeper with each passing second. My cheeks burned under the heat of his gaze, and I felt a flush crawling down my neck.
Then, with deliberate, careful motion, he lowered his head and kissed me fully. It wasn't the quick, possessive kiss of the elevator or fleeting touches before; this was slow, measured, a meticulous exploration. Every brush of his lips was a wordless conversation, a dialogue of desire that spoke louder than any question or explanation could. I could feel him smile, the press of his lips against mine carrying a subtle, triumphant satisfaction.
He… he is smiling! My mind whispered in shock, a small, astonished spark amid the haze of sensation. Even here, in the thick swirl of tension and longing, the sight of his rare, genuine smile stunned me. It was a momentary glimpse of something hidden beneath his usual austere, calculating exterior, and it left me breathless.
The kiss deepened, and I felt the strength in his arms shift. One hand cradled my face, holding me steady as I instinctively curled my fingers into the soft fabric of his trousers, trying to anchor myself amid the dizzying intensity. The timid shyness I had carried into this room was slowly, irrevocably burning away, replaced by a raw awareness of every heat, every touch, every movement.
Pressed against him, I realized there was no turning back. I had dared to ask about his past desires, and now he was answering—not with words, but with a fierce, undeniable physical devotion that left no room for doubt.
The air was thick and charged, saturated with the aftershocks of our collision. I heard a rough, deep pant, the sound vibrating through the space above me, followed by a subtle shift in his weight. A fragile bubble of relief formed in my chest.
Whew… I guess it's over now, since he's catching his breath, I thought, a quiet, almost shy internal whisper.
But as I looked up, a flicker of unease slithered through me. He wasn't moving to disengage. His body remained pressed close, radiating heat and power, a living, breathing assertion of control. My breath hitched.
"Pant…" The sound came again, closer this time, deliberate.
A small voice of apprehension rose within me: Is it… over?
My eyes traced the sharp lines of his jaw, the subtle movement of the hand resting on the sheet, the faint luminescence of his skin in the dim light. I followed the contours of his torso, down to his lower back, the taut planes of his legs, and the proximity of his foot to mine. Then I noticed the subtle shift, the deliberate movement, accompanied by a drawn-out sound that made my pulse race: SLIDE.
A low, vibrating chuckle rumbled from his chest, rich and predatory. My skin prickled at the sound. He leaned closer, dark hair falling forward, his warm breath brushing against my ear, and I felt the weight of his gaze—possessive, intense, unrelenting.
Above us, the light shifted, casting a hot, pulsating red glow across his torso. Every line of his body seemed to thrum with unspoken promise.
"We're just…"
I stared up at him, heart hammering against my ribs, every instinct screaming the same question: Was it over?
He finished the sentence, two words that struck through me with finality:
"…getting started."
Chapter 85 – End