Rose imdiately shook the book as she clasped it close, her face turning crimson, her cheeks flushing with embarrassnt as she quickly shook her head. One reason she usually borrowed books from the library was because she knew how she got when she read—she never stayed still. If a story got too intense, she’d roll around on her bed, scream into a pillow, or even argue with the characters out loud.
That was exactly why she borrowed those kinds of books instead of reading them at the library—there, she could be alone, free to pour out every emotion without judgnt and shout all she wanted. But now... Zethan was here.
Not to ntion the fact that, in all the books she’d read, she had never encountered such an out-of-the-blue part. It had certainly caught her off guard. Normally, the books she read built up to these kinds of scenes in the later Chapters. That was why she’d told him she would only be reading Chapter one.
"I... I... can’t, please," she pleaded, her hands now covering her face. This man was seriously sothing. Just because she told him she read books, now he wanted her to show him her "skill" in reading? How was she supposed to read this out loud—sothing she only ever read in her head?
"What is the matter? Is there sothing wrong?" Zethan asked quietly, as if he wasn’t the exact person who had laughed just monts ago. Rose shifted slightly—oh... her behind had rubbed against Zethan’s. She moved again, only to gasp as Zethan’s hands settled on her waist.
"Rose..." His deep voice made her pause.
The way those words left his lips—tight, restrained, like he was holding sothing back—worried her. And then there was the fact that she was sitting in his lap, right between his legs. She couldn’t quite see his face, so she began to turn toward him, ready to ask if he was okay. But before the words left her lips, his hand slid up around her neck, and his thumb and forefinger gently, yet firmly, turned her face away.
Her eyes widened imdiately when she felt sothing poke her from behind. A deep flush spread across her cheeks as she stamred softly, "Z... Zethan, sothing is... poking ." Before Zethan could respond, her hand instinctively moved behind her, trying to push it away—only for her eyes to widen even further when her palm ca to rest directly over his crotch.
They flew wider when she realized just where her hands were.
Just as she was about to pull away, Zethan’s hand caught hers—neither pushing it away nor letting it go, just holding it in place. His chest pressed to her back, their shared heat making it impossible to think straight. Her breath hitched as his other hand found her ankle, slowly gliding upward, pushing her gown along with it. Her back arched slightly, head tilting to the side as her eyes t his. Their intimate position was maddening—and she wasn’t even sure when those quiet, involuntary sounds had started slipping from her lips.
It wasn’t that she didn’t want him to touch her—she did, more than she cared to admit. But at the sa ti, she didn’t understand why her body wasn’t reacting the way she thought it would. Why she wasn’t pulling away. Or maybe... maybe she didn’t want to. Part of her still needed him to understand exactly what he was doing—and how close she was to letting it happen.
"Z... Zethan," she managed to stutter—just that one word, but it was enough to make him pause. His voice dropped to a whisper.
"Bunny, do you want to continue?"
Rose’s breath caught in her throat. The word No hovered sowhere in her mind, but her lips betrayed her.
"Y..Yes," she whispered.
A faint, knowing smirk tugged at Zethan’s lips as he gently guided her hands away. Their position was already far too intimate. She sat snugly between his legs, her back pressed against his chest. One of her arms had reached up, fingers curling behind his neck for support, while his hands found her legs—one lifting slightly, the other slipping lower, adding to the closeness.
Rose didn’t even know when the word had slipped out of her mouth. Maybe it was bravery—or maybe just the fact that she wasn’t facing him. Because if she had been looking into those eyes, with her heart pounding this hard, there was no way she would’ve managed to speak at all.
Sure, they were married now. So maybe this kind of closeness was supposed to feel normal. But still... why did her heart beat like it had sothing to prove?
Then, to her surprise, Zethan’s voice rumbled softly behind her.
"Never dye your hair," he whispered, his warm breath brushing the shell of her ear. "I love it too much."
A soft, involuntary sound escaped her lips—quiet but real. Her eyes widened as she slapped a hand over her mouth, embarrassed.
But Zethan caught her wrist and gently pulled her hand away. His voice dropped even lower.
"Hands on my neck, sweetheart," he whispered huskily.
Rose’s heart began to pound wildly in her chest at his words. ’Oh my goodness...’ The way he’d said it—so low, so tender—it was enough to undo soone in the blink of an eye. It was maddening. Beautiful. Too much. Too good to be true.
Then his hands started to move—slowly, steadily—upward. And just as they neared her thighs, she turned her face away, cheeks flushing with heat.
"N-Not there..." she murmured, her voice barely audible.
The thing was, she had a figure most would envy—slim waist, thick thighs, and full curves that ford the classic hourglass. But unlike those with long legs who wore confidence like a second skin, Rose always hesitated. Not because she wasn’t beautiful —she was—but for reasons she couldn’t quite explain, she always held back, uncertain.
Zethan’s voice ca again, low and assuring.
"You don’t have to worry, sweetheart," he whispered, his hand slowly tracing its way up her soft thigh. "Your thighs are very, very beautiful. Gorgeous, in fact."
A soft, breathy sound escaped Rose’s lips before she could stop it. Her eyes widened in shock again this was the second ti this sound ca out,she quickly pressed her hand over her mouth, heart racing. But Zethan was faster. Gently, he took her hand and pulled it away once more.
"Let hear you, sweetie," he murmured, his voice low and coaxing. "Let hear those angelic sound of yours. Don’t hide it."
Rose’s face flushed a deep crimson. She knew exactly what that sound was—knew what it ant. She’d read stories, read about people making those kinds of sounds in monts like this. But never, not once, had she imagined she would be one of them. That such a sound could co from her.
Zethan rested his hand gently between her thighs as he reached for the book, his voice calm but filled with quiet authority.
"Why don’t I teach you instead?" he murmured. "And you can practice with later instead."
Before Rose could process his words, he had already moved—fluid, intentional. In a blink, she found herself on the bed, her back against the sheets, with Zethan now hovering above her, his presence overwhelming and inescapable.
Their eyes locked in a long, quiet gaze before Zethan finally spoke.
"Your eyes... what color are they?"
Rose blinked, caught off guard by the question. "They’re hazel," she replied softly.
He tilted his head slightly, still watching her closely. "No, they’re not. They’re golden brown."
Rose shook her head with a faint smile. "They’re hazel...,Your Majesty."
Zethan chuckled lowly, and before she could say anything more, he leaned in. His lips pressed gently against the side of her neck, sending a jolt through her body. Rose bit her bottom lip hard, trying to hold back a sound.
Then ca the heat of his tongue as he slowly licked along her skin, followed by the sharp, teasing graze of his teeth against her neck. Her breath caught as sweet shivers ran down her spine.
And then, in a whisper that tickled her skin, he asked,
"Do you want to touch you?"
"Say the words," he whispered, his voice barely audible as his hand gently lifted one of her legs. "And I’ll fulfill them."
Rose’s face flushed deeply, and she turned her head to the side, overwheld by the heat rising in her chest.
"Yes..." she murmured, her voice trembling.
But Zethan wasn’t having that. His tone grew firr, commanding yet soft.
"Eyes on . And tell properly—I won’t touch you until you say it."
Her eyes widened slightly at the boldness in his voice, at how openly he demanded her truth. Sothing about it made her heart stutter, her breath catch.
If you had told her that one day this could happen, she would’ve probably laughed. But now... she didn’t know. For so unknown reason, she just knew—she wouldn’t regret this.
And then, finally, in a voice barely above a whisper, filled with trembling need, she said it:
"Y...yes, Z...Zethan. I want you to touch ."
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