CHAPTER 314

CHAPTER 314
ALINA

“Let me take care of you,” I said, reaching for the body wash.

Alexander’s eyes darkened as they locked on mine. “What are you doing?”

“Something you never let me do.” I squeezed a little soap into my palm, my gaze holding his.

“You’re always taking care of me. For once, just stand there and let me take care of you.”

He opened his mouth—ready with whatever careful, responsible argument he had lined up. I leaned in and kissed him before he could get a single word out. Quick. Firm. Effective.

When I pulled back he just stared at me, looking slightly stunned.

I smiled, slow and a little wicked.
“There. Speechless. My favorite version of you.”

I lathered the soap between my hands and started washing him—shoulders first, then down across the broad plane of his chest, feeling the hard muscle jump under my palms.

My hands slid lower, over the tight ridges of his stomach, lingering just long enough to feel the way his breathing changed.

When I sank to my knees to wash his legs, his hand shot out and caught my wrist hard.

“What the fuck—careful!” His voice came out sharp, almost panicked. “Get up. Right now. You’re not supposed to be on your knees—Christ, Wife, get off the floor.”

I leveled him with a look and gently twisted free.

“Relax. I’m washing your legs, not performing surgery. Stop hovering like I’m about to shatter.”

“But—”

“Shh. No more talking, husband.”

I kept going, rubbing the soap over his calves and the strong lines of his thighs with slow, deliberate care. His muscles were tight under my palms.

Higher up, I could see exactly what my touch was doing to him—his cock was hard, thick, curving up against his stomach, ignored and clearly aching.

His hands clenched into fists at his sides like he was forcing himself not to reach for me.

“Wife.” His voice came out rough, strained. “Are you deliberately testing my fucking patience right now?”

“I’m just putting soap on you,” I said dryly, still on my knees. “You’re acting like I’m about to take advantage of you.” I interrupted mildly.

Alexander let out a short, incredulous breath.

“That’s exactly the problem,” he muttered, eyes dark as they stayed locked on me. “You on your knees with your hands on me is taking advantage. And you know it.”

I arched a brow, trying for defensive even as heat curled low in my stomach.

“I’m literally just washing you. You’re the one making it sound filthy.”

My soapy hand slid higher along his thigh—then brushed deliberately over the hard length of him.I blinked up at him, all false innocence.

“Oops.”

A frustrated sound left him, but he stayed still after that—barely. I could feel how much it cost him to let me do this.

Every time my soapy hands dragged higher along his thighs, his cock twitched and his fists tightened until the knuckles went white.

He didn’t stop me, but a low curse slipped out through his teeth every time my fingers brushed too close.

When I finished with him I took his hand, laced our fingers together, and lifted it to my mouth. I pressed a soft kiss to the back of it.

“There. Done.” I glanced up at him, lips curving. “Wasn’t so bad, was it, husband?”

I started to rise. Alexander was instantly there, strong hands steadying my elbows, helping me up like I might topple over from the sheer effort of standing. His jaw was tight, eyes still dark.

I guided him under the showerhead, letting the warm water cascade over both of us.

My hands moved over his skin again, softer now, rinsing the soap away—chest, stomach, the deep V that led down to where he was still hard and heavy.

“You’re impossible,” he muttered.

I only smiled, then turned under the spray and began washing myself while he watched.

I took my time. Soap over my shoulders, down my arms, across my collarbones.

My hands slid over my breasts, lingering, thumbs brushing my own nipples as I cleaned them.

I watched his face the entire time. His eyes were almost black, locked on every movement. When my palms dragged down my stomach and lower, another rough curse left him under his breath.

“Fuck, Alina…”

His hands were still clenched at his sides. His cock looked painfully hard now, the head flushed, and he made no move to hide it.

He just stood there under the spray, breathing hard, forcing himself to keep still while I touched myself in front of him like it was the most natural thing in the world.

I felt the weight of that gaze like a physical touch and reveled in it.

When I was done I stepped out and grabbed a large towel. He followed closely. I dried him carefully—shoulders, chest, arms—while he stood strangely silent, letting me.

Only when I reached for a second towel did he take it from my hands and return the favour, drying me with the same quiet focus.

When I tried to protest he silenced me with a kiss, deep and bruising, that left me hot and wanting all over again.

My hands stayed in his as I pulled us out of the bathroom and toward the bed.

I gave him a light push. He sat, then let himself fall back against the mattress, eyes widening slightly as he looked up at me. One eyebrow lifted in silent question, but he didn’t speak.

I climbed onto the bed beside him. The second I lay down he turned toward me and pulled me close. His mouth found mine.

He licked along my lower lip, demanding access. I moaned and opened for him. The kiss deepened fast. Heat rushed through me, my body already burning hotter with every second his tongue stroked against mine.

His hand slid to my waist, gripping firmly—like he still couldn’t decide whether to pull me closer or remember all the reasons he was supposed to be careful.

“Wife,” he murmured against my mouth, the protest weaker now. “We should stop. Rogers —”

I kissed him again, cutting the warning short, and felt the exact moment his restraint started to crack under the weight of wanting me back.

His lips descended on mine and we kissed. He licked along the seam of my mouth, demanding access. I moaned and opened for him.

Heat bloomed low in my stomach as the seconds stretched. His tongue slid against mine, deep and claiming. My hands lifted to his head, fingers threading into his wet hair and pulling him closer.

We didn’t break the kiss when his hand whispered across my thigh, gently pushing my legs apart. I gasped into his mouth. Alexander only kissed me deeper.

My nails dug into his shoulders as a soft moan escaped me. He groaned in answer, nipping at my lower lip before soothing it with his tongue.

When I felt his hand between my legs—caressing the sensitive skin of my inner thigh, fingers moving closer to where I was already aching—I broke the kiss, breathing hard.

My heart hammered against my ribs. Alexander’s mouth found my neck instead, kissing a slow path downward. He licked, nipped, and bit softly, leaving marks that made my toes curl. A deep rumble vibrated from his chest when my nails scraped down his back.

His thigh nudged my legs farther apart. I licked my lips. Then he rolled fully on top of me. My eyes fluttered shut as his weight settled between my parted thighs.

I felt the hard length of him resting against my dripping core and my eyes snapped open again.

His lips continued lower, trailing wet kisses toward my breast.

My hands went to his shoulders—Alexander’s eyes flew open in sudden shock.

“Shit....shit..What the fuck am I doing—”

He swore and rolled off me so fast the mattress dipped.

“I’m so sorry, Wife. Fuck—I didn’t think. I shouldn’t have pushed you. I shouldn’t have—”

He sat on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, head bowed, breathing hard. His cock was still painfully hard, but he kept his hands clenched like he didn’t trust himself to touch me again.

I stared at him for a second, chest rising and falling, body still burning from how close we’d just been. Then I sat up slowly.

“Alexander.”

He didn’t look at me. “I’m so fucking selfish,” he muttered, voice rough with self-disgust.

“I told myself I wouldn’t cross that line. And the second you kissed me back I almost—” He dragged a hand down his face. “I could have hurt you. Or the baby. Christ.”

“Stop beating yourself up. You did nothing wrong,” I soothed gently, brushing my fingers over his rough stubble.

He opened his mouth to argue. I pushed him flat onto his back. Alexander’s mouth snapped shut. He swallowed hard several times.

“What are you doing, wife?”

“Taking care of you. Duh.”

When I shifted and moved over him, his eyes widened in understanding.

“You… we… don’t—Rogers—”

“I know what Rogers said,” I cut in. “Stop reminding me. I can satisfy you without the strenuous activity, silly..”

I kissed him soundly before he could answer. My hand traveled down the hard plane of his stomach toward his cock. It lay thick and firm against his lower belly. My fingers wrapped around his length.

Alexander sucked in a sharp breath, breaking the kiss.

“Wife—fuck—we shouldn’t—”

The protest was already weaker than the last one.

His eyes flared dark when my fingers tightened around him.

“Wife,” he groaned, and I smiled. I loved how easily I could unravel him.

I stroked him slowly at first, watching this heartless killer come undone under my touch. His jaw clenched. His breathing turned harder, faster. I was already wet between my thighs, aching, but I ignored it. A deep grunt escaped him when my thumb swept over the tip.

“Alina… Christ… this is still—”

He never finished the sentence. His hips twitched upward into my hand instead.

I worked him faster. His hips started moving with my strokes. Alexander’s hand suddenly covered mine, tightening my grip around his hardness.

“Like this,” he ordered roughly, guiding our hands faster and harder for a few strokes before releasing me and letting me take over again.

His hips jerked as he fucked into my fist. My thumb swirled over the slick tip, coating it with pre-cum. He groaned, body going taut.

“Fuck—wife—”

The words were breathless now, almost automatic, like he felt obligated to say them even while his body chased every stroke.

I leaned over him and took his mouth in a deep kiss. Alexander’s hand came up to grip the back of my neck. He bit my lower lip, then kissed me harder, the last of his protests dying against my tongue as his hips rolled up into my hand with increasing urgency.

I stroked him through it, watching every flicker of pleasure and surrender cross his face, and felt him start to lose the fight completely.