Chapter 13: The First Kiss

My breath hitched. My mind screamed no way. No way was I going to let him have the upper hand like that, not when I had vowed to hold my ground, not when I had promised myself I wouldn’t lose out to him so easily.

Before he could move closer, I steadied myself, heart racing fast, and surged forward. And then I kissed him first.

It was clumsy, my lips pressing against his in a rush of nervous defiance. My hands flew up, gripping his shoulders for balance. Heat shot through me, all-consuming and unfamiliar. My pulse roared in my ears. I didn’t even know if I was doing it right, but I refused to pull away, refused to let him laugh at me for being inexperienced.

His body went rigid under my touch for a heartbeat, then I felt his lips curve faintly against mine, as if amused but also caught off guard. His hand rose, steadying me by the waist, while I clung harder to his shoulder, almost trembling.

It was my first kiss. And I had just thrown it away in the most reckless way possible.

His lips softened beneath mine, and just when I thought I might be doing something terribly wrong, his hand slid up the back of my neck, steadying me. In one smooth motion, he tilted my head and deepened the kiss, taking full control.

I gasped softly against him, startled at the sudden change, and that was all the invitation he needed. His lips moved against mine with a confidence that made my knees feel weak, coaxing me to follow his lead, showing me what a real kiss was supposed to feel like.

The clumsy pressure of my first attempt melted away as his mouth claimed mine, slowly, drawing me into his rhythm. His thumb brushed over my cheek, his touch firm but almost tender, sending sparks down my spine.

I gripped his shoulders harder, unsure if I wanted to push him away or pull him closer. My body betrayed me, leaning into him despite the storm of thoughts rushing through my head. He was intoxicating, overwhelming, and far too dangerous.

When he finally pulled back, it was too sudden, leaving me breathless and chasing the heat of him without realizing it. His lips lingered a fraction from mine, his breath warm as he whispered,

"That… is how you kiss, Lana Virelli.”

My face burned, my heart racing out of control. He smirked slightly, clearly amused by my reaction, while I could only glare at him weakly, unable to hide the tremble in my hands.

The words left his mouth in that smooth, deep voice of his that always seemed to know how to crawl under my skin.

“You go and have your bath first,” he said, leaning back on the headboard as though the bed already belonged to him. His dark eyes glinted when they caught mine. “Then I’ll go next, and we can sleep… my little wife.”

I stiffened. My little wife?

My lips parted in surprise, then I frowned and crossed my arms. “Not calling me Virelli anymore?”

He tilted his head, studying me with that infuriating half-smile. “No,” he murmured. “Little wife suits you better.”

Something in my chest fluttered, a reaction I quickly masked with a scoff. “Hmph. As if I’d answer to that.”

But my voice lacked conviction, and the heat creeping up my cheeks betrayed me.

I glanced around, searching for a distraction. My gaze landed on the bathroom door, then back to him. Panic prickled in me when I realized the obvious problem. “Wait,” I whispered under my breath. “I don’t have anything to wear after bathing.”

He noticed instantly. His gaze dropped to me, then, without hesitation, he picked up his phone, from his pocket and pressed a single button.

“Bring all of a woman’s necessities,” he ordered. His tone was clipped, commanding, used to being obeyed without question.

He hung up before I could say anything.

I bit my lip, uneasy but the flutter in my chest hadn’t faded.

The corner of his lips curved as he caught the hesitation on my face.

“Seems I’ll be entering the bathroom first, little wife,” he said smoothly, the decision had already been made for both of us.

I swallowed, trying not to let the embarrassment show. “Fine,” I muttered under my breath, but his sharp hearing caught it.

“Don’t sulk,” he chuckled, already unbuttoning his cuff links as he strode towards the bathroom. “You’ll have your turn soon.”

The door shut behind him with a click, and silence fell. I clasped my hands together on my lap, staring at the expanse of the room that was far too big.

My pulse still hadn’t settled from earlier, the kiss, his teasing, his insistence on calling me little wife.

I hugged myself. Calm down, Lana. Stop acting like a child. If you can’t even handle sharing a room, how would you handle much bigger things?

Minutes crawled by, the sound of running water faint through the thick door. My imagination betrayed me, picturing him under the spray, his skin wet, the muscles of his back flexing as he moved. Heat crept up my neck, and I shook my head violently, muttering, “Stop it, Lana. Get a grip.”

When the door finally opened, I wasn’t ready for what I saw.

He stepped out, steam curling around him like mist, a towel slung low on his hips. Water still clung to his dark hair, dampening the strands that framed his sharp face. Droplets trailed down his chest, over his broad shoulders, his sculpted torso and the hard ridges of muscle looked carved rather than real. His skin glistened under the soft lights of the room, each line of him dangerously beautiful.

I forgot how to breathe.

“Y..You’re done already?” My voice came out higher than I intended.