Chapter 52 Love Without Words
The silk tie of her nightdress had loosened at some point, the neckline slipping off her shoulder to reveal a smooth curve of skin.
Terrence's palm slid beneath the parted fabric, finding the narrow line of her waist. His hand was warm, the faint calluses on his fingertips tracing slow circles that sent a shiver rippling through her.
"Cold..." she murmured, her fingers tightening unconsciously.
"It won't be for long." His voice was low, rough against her ear, before his mouth found hers again.
The kiss deepened, sweeping away any words she might have formed. His tongue teased past her lips, tangling with hers until her breath came in short, uneven bursts. She clung to him like a drowning soul clinging to the last piece of driftwood.
His hand traveled downward, over the taut plane of her stomach, pausing just long enough to make her breath hitch. Even through the fragile veil of fabric, the warmth of his touch reached her, and she stiffened, a soft sound escaping her throat.
Terrence lifted his head, searching her face, his eyes shadowed with a heat that seemed to burn through the dimness. His fingers brushed damp strands from her forehead.
"Afraid?"
She shook her head, looping her arms around his neck, pulling him back to her. Her lips found the corner of his mouth, hesitant but deliberate, and whatever restraint he had left broke apart.
His hands caught her wrists, pinning them gently beside her head as his mouth moved to her collarbone, leaving warm, lingering marks. The nightdress slipped away entirely, the cool air meeting bare skin.
He explored her with a slow, deliberate hunger, each touch coaxing a reaction she could not suppress. Her head tipped back, a sound breaking from her lips, half-breath, half-moan.
When his hand found the place that made her shiver, she gasped, threading her fingers into his hair, torn between pushing him away and holding him closer. The fabric between them shifted, and his breath warmed her skin.
She tried to close her legs, but his shoulders kept her open. His mouth replaced his hand, and the sensation was enough to make her lose her words entirely.
"Terrence..."
Her voice was fractured, her hips lifting involuntarily toward him. The rhythm of his touch sent waves through her, each one stronger than the last, until she felt herself spiraling upward, the world narrowing to the heat between them.
When he finally moved to shed the last of his own barriers, the air between them seemed charged. He pressed forward slowly, and the unfamiliar fullness inside her was strangely welcome. He paused, giving her time, his hand brushing her cheek.
"Does it hurt?"
She shook her head, eyes glistening, the sensation strange but not unwelcome. Lifting her legs, she hooked them around his waist in silent invitation.
That was all it took to shatter his composure.
His hands gripped her hips, guiding her into a rhythm that built from gentle to urgent. Each movement found the place inside her that made her breath catch, drawing her higher. The quiet of the room filled with the mingled sounds between them and her soft, breathless cries.
He kissed her again, swallowing every sound she made, moving faster, harder, until the edge was too close to ignore. Holding her tight, he enclosed her with unyielding resolve. She trembled against him, her nails dragging lightly down his back.
Morning came, and Bianca woke in his arms.
As soon as she stirred, the arm around her waist tightened. "Sleep a little longer," he murmured, voice rough with sleep, his hand absently tracing her side.
She turned to face him, her fingers skimming the open collar of his shirt, following the line of his collarbone. "There's an important project meeting at the company today. I might be busy."
His eyes opened, her face filling his blurred vision. He cupped her cheek, his thumb pressing lightly to her lips. "Come back early."
"I'll try." She kissed his jaw. "I've set your medicine in the study. Have the staff remind you at noon."
He nodded, then rolled over her, kissing her deeply before letting her go. "Be careful."
She laughed breathlessly, pushing at him. "If I don't leave now, I'll be late..."
By the time she left, it was half an hour later.
Terrence stood at the upstairs window, listening to the sound of her car fading away, his fingers still remembering the feel of her skin.
At the company, Lon dropped a thick stack of files onto her desk, his smile edged with mockery. "Ms. Rodriguez, these are the past five years of project archives. Finance needs the data urgently—please send them an electronic version before the end of the day."
Bianca eyed the stack, nearly half her height, but only nodded.
She worked straight through the day without even stopping for water.
Back at Crystal Gardens, Terrence sat in the study, phone in hand. The screen showed his last message to Bianca, sent four hours ago. His lips pressed into a thin line.
The medicine and water on the desk were already cold.
A servant knocked softly, reminding him it was time. "Leave it," he said.
The light outside dimmed, shadows pooling in the study. That familiar isolation crept in, quiet but insistent.
He rose and crossed to the window. His vision had recovered enough to distinguish light from dark, but tonight it only made the emptiness sharper.
Was this what it felt like—to be wanted, and then set aside?
By 7:30, Bianca finally finished the files. Her back ached as she left the office. Sliding into the car, she reached for her phone, only to find it dead.