Chapter 231: Memorizing your body

♡ Leila ♡

I woke up slowly.

Everything was blurry. My head felt heavy, my chest tight, like I had been crying for days without stopping. I tried to take a deep breath, but it came out weak, broken.

Where… where am I?

My eyes adjusted little by little, and I realized I was lying on a bed.

A bed that wasn’t mine.

Panic rushed through me.

I tried to sit up, but something tugged at my wrist.

I froze.

My heart dropped.

I looked down and saw a thin red rope tied gently but firmly around my wrist. It stretched beside me, connected to—

I followed it with my eyes.

And then I saw him.

My breath hitched.

My body flinched backward without thinking.

“T-Tobias…” I whispered.

The name slipped out of my lips like a prayer.

Like a plea.

Was I dreaming?

I had to be dreaming.

Because there was no way.

No way he was here.

If this was a dream… then I didn’t want to wake up. Ever.

“Tobias…” My voice came out clearer this time as I shifted closer to him.

His body moved slowly.

His eyes opened.

And when they met mine—

“Leila,” he said softly.

My face crumpled instantly.

Everything I had been holding in shattered.

I burst into tears.

I threw myself into his arms, hugging him like he would disappear if I let go.

“I’m so sorry,” I cried into his chest. “I’m so sorry, Tobias… I lost our baby.”

The words tore out of me.

They burned.

They hurt.

They destroyed me all over again.

I cried harder, clutching his shirt, pulling him closer like he was my only anchor in the world.

“It’s fine, Leila,” he murmured. “It’s fine, La.”

His hand moved slowly on my back, patting me, comforting me.

The way he always used to.

The way only he could.

I lifted my face, tears streaming down my cheeks.

My lips trembled.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered again.

I didn’t know what else to say.

Without thinking, without planning, I leaned forward.

I kissed him.

My lips pressed against his, desperate, broken, searching for comfort, something familiar.

My tongue brushed against his, and for a second, he froze.

I felt it. The hesitation.

The sharp pause.

His body went stiff.

His eyes were shaky when I pulled back just a little, but I didn’t care.

I was tired of caring.

I was tired of being strong.

I kissed him again.

This time, slower, and needier.

And after a moment…

He gave in for a minute, but paused again.

“Leila, wait.”

His voice cut through the haze, soft but firm, breaking the kiss just as my lips were starting to bruise against his. I didn’t want to stop. I couldn’t. If I stopped, he’d fade again—like smoke slipping through my fingers—and I’d wake up. Alone. To reality.

I pulled him back, fingers curling into his hair, mouth crashing over his again. Harder this time. Hungrier. “I need this, Tobias,” I whispered against his lips between frantic kisses. “You will disappear when I wake up. I might never see you again. Please… just let me have this.”

My hands moved on their own—sliding under the hem of his shirt, pushing the soft cotton up his chest, over his shoulders. His skin was warm, real, the faint scent of his cologne wrapping around me like a memory I refused to let go.

“Wait—” His fingers caught my wrists, gentle but unyielding. His Adam’s apple bobbed hard. “We can’t do this.”

I blinked up at him, chest heaving. “Why? Because you’re a ghost?” I tugged weakly against his hold. “It’s just a dream, Tobias. Nothing matters here.”

“No.” He shook his head slowly, eyes dark and serious in the dim light. “It’s not a dream.”

Confusion twisted in my chest. I lifted my wrist—the thin red rope still looped loosely around it, the other end tied to his. A single thread connecting us. I held it up between us like evidence. “Then why did you tie my hand to yours? Isn’t this… a symbol? Proof you’re really here?”

His lips parted. He stared at the rope on his own wrist. “It’s because—”

I pressed one finger to his mouth before he could finish. “Just trust me,” I whispered.

With trembling hands I untied the knot at my wrist, then quickly looped the red cord around both of his—wrists crossed in front of him, binding them together. Not tight enough to hurt. Just enough to hold.

Even in the low, flickering light, I could see the shock flash across his face—eyes widening, mouth falling open in silent protest.

I didn’t give him time to speak.

My fingers returned to his shirt, shoving it up and over his head until it caught on his bound hands. Then lower—belt buckle, button, zipper. I tugged his pants down just enough, and his cock sprang free—thick, already swollen and straining toward me. The head was flushed, glistening at the tip, veins prominent along the shaft. Big. Manly. Exactly how I remembered.

I bit my lip hard, arousal flooding hot and sudden between my thighs despite the dull ache still lingering in my lower belly and my head.

His voice came out rough, strained. “No, Leila. You just had a miscarriage. You’re still injured. You can’t—you can’t have sex.”

I smiled slowly—soft, almost sad—because even in my dream he was scolding me the way he used to. Protective. Caring. Real.

“I’m not having sex with you, Tobias,” I murmured, wrapping my fingers around his length. He was hot, velvet-hard, pulsing in my palm. I gave one slow stroke from base to tip, watching his abs tighten, his bound hands flex uselessly. “I’m memorizing your body. So when you disappear again… I won’t forget.”

His breath hitched. “Leila—”

“Shh.” I leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to the center of his chest—right over his racing heart—then lower, trailing my lips along the line of his ribs, the dip of his navel. My hand kept moving—slow, firm strokes—thumb circling the slick head on every upstroke, spreading the bead of pre-cum until he glistened.

He groaned low in his throat, hips jerking despite himself. “I–I–"

“Good,” I whispered against his skin. “Be speechless. Just feel.”

I shifted lower, settling between his thighs. My free hand cupped his balls—gentle, rolling them lightly while my mouth hovered just above the tip of his cock. I blew a soft breath over him first—watching him twitch—then dragged my tongue in one slow, wet stripe from base to crown.

Tobias’s head fell back against the pillow with a choked sound. “Fuck—Leila—”

I took him into my mouth slowly, my lips stretching around his girth, tongue swirling around the head before sliding down as far as I could. He was big enough that my jaw ached in the best way; I hollowed my cheeks, sucking gently, then harder, bobbing in a steady rhythm while my hand worked the base I couldn’t reach.

His bound hands flexed again, muscles straining against the red rope. “God… your mouth… so fucking warm…”

I hummed around him—the vibration making his hips buck—then pulled off with a wet pop, stroking him fast and slick while I kissed along the underside, tracing every vein with my tongue.

“Look at me,” I whispered.

His eyes snapped to mine—dark, glassy, desperate.

“I want to remember this,” I said softly. “Every sound you make. Every shudder. Every drop.”

Then I took him deep again—deeper this time—until he hit the back of my throat. I swallowed around him, throat working, and his whole body tensed.

“Leila—fuck—I’m— Cain, not Tobias”

I stop instantly, my eyes flashing wild.

"What did you say?"