After a long shower, Amanda felt the tension of the past few weeks finally melt away. She climbed into bed, ready for a deep sleep. Quentin followed, turning off the main lights and leaving only the warm, amber glow of the bedside lamp.
Amanda lay on her back, lazily reaching for the duvet, but before she could pull it up, Quentin moved, his weight pressing her into the mattress. She froze in surprise, her breath catching.
"What are you doing?"
Quentin smiled—a natural, effortless expression—and brushed his lips against hers. "Let's finish what we started back at the hotel."
Amanda gave a mock scowl and tried to nudge him away. "Can't you control your lower half for once? I want to sleep!"
Quentin didn't budge. He lowered his gaze, looking at her with an intentionally pitiful, hooded expression. "Mandy," he murmured, his voice dropping into a raspy, seductive register. "I can't help myself."
Damn him, Amanda thought, gritting her teeth. He's using those eyes to break the rules and seduce me!
But as she looked at him, she felt her resolve crumbling. Quentin noticed. Over their time together, he had discovered that his wife was the living embodiment of "a hard beak but a soft heart"—she was a sucker for sweetness and couldn't stay mad when he was being tender.
He leaned down and captured her lips again. This time, Amanda didn't hesitate; she reached up and locked her arms around his neck, pulling him closer.
The kiss deepened, their breath hitching in the quiet room. Quentin pulled away just long enough to discard their clothes, the fabric falling unceremoniously to the floor. When he returned to her, the heat of their skin meeting made Amanda shiver. She ran her fingers through his dark hair, gently nipping at his lip.
For a long time, Amanda had viewed marriage as a hollow arrangement, a mere tool for survival. But Quentin's constant giving, his quiet sacrifices, and his unwavering patience were slowly wearing down her defenses.
As they moved together, she realized she was falling for his gentleness. Behind her irritable remarks and feigned annoyance, she was always, in fact, following his lead.
"What are you thinking about?" Quentin whispered, his forehead damp with sweat as he paused to look down at her.
Amanda didn't answer with words. She simply pulled him back down, initiating a kiss that spoke for her. Quentin's eyes darkened with a mix of surprise and delight. He moved to separate her legs, his voice fascinated and low.
"Mandy... you like this too, don't you?"
He didn't rush. He lingered, watching her face, wanting to see the exact moment she gave in. Amanda reached out, caressing his cheek, her lips curling into a soft, genuine smile.
"I like it," she admitted.
The last of Quentin's calm shattered. The naked lust in his eyes was visible as he finally gave in to his own desire. Amanda's soft moan was swallowed by his kiss as they lost themselves in each other.
Hours later, Amanda was fast asleep, tucked securely against Quentin's chest. He pulled her even closer, his touch lingering on her shoulder. Only in these quiet moments did he feel like this wasn't a dream.
The girl he had loved in secret for five years—the one he had watched grow up from a distance—was finally in his arms. And tonight, she hadn't just endured him; she had responded to him.
"Mandy," he whispered into the darkness. "I love you."
Satisfied and finally at peace, he drifted off into a dreamless sleep.
When Amanda woke up, it was nearly noon. The space beside her was empty and cold; Quentin must have left for work hours ago. Surprisingly, she didn't feel guilty about sleeping in; her spirit felt lighter and more energized than it had in months.
After a long stretch and a quick freshening up, she headed downstairs. As she reached the living room, a familiar voice drifted her way.
"President Harris, these documents need your signature, and this report requires your final review."
Amanda paused, frowning. Secretary James? She stepped into the room and saw the man who "should have been at the office" sitting comfortably on the sofa, sipping tea while reading through a mountain of paperwork.
"Are you not going to work... again?" she asked, putting a heavy emphasis on the last word. Including today, Quentin hadn't stepped foot in the company headquarters for four days.
Quentin looked up, a faint, playful smile touching his lips. "There's no urgent business that requires me to be there in person. I can handle everything from home."
Amanda nodded, accepting the answer. "Alright then. I'm going to have lunch. Don't let me interrupt your work." She gave a small nod to a very weary-looking Secretary James.
"Yes, go ahead," Quentin said softly. "I told the kitchen to prepare chicken soup for you."
He watched her walk away with an expression of pure adoration, completely oblivious to the fact that Secretary James looked like he was about to collapse next to him.
James stared at his boss's "relaxed" face and screamed internally.
Who made me come here at 5:00 AM? Who sat here for six hours straight ruthlessly processing every backlog of the last four days? No special work?!
Secretary James wanted to cry, but as a professional, he just gripped his pen tighter and sighed. The things he did for his boss's love life...