Chapter 568
Anneliese’s eyes were squeezed shut, but her fingers pressed over Jonathan’s mouth with surprising accuracy. For a heartbeat, she allowed herself a fleeting victory—he wasn’t saying anything that could humiliate her further.
And then-heat. His lips pressed against her palm, brushing over her fingers. Before she could pull away, a slow, deliberate part of his mouth captured her fingertip, leaving a fire where her skin met his.
She jerked back, her heart hammering and mind spiraling. She forced her eyes open, wide and glimmering with alarm, tugging at her hand. “No, stop! Let go p>
Jonathan’s hold on her wrist tightened, his gaze unwavering as he studied her flustered expression. “It’s just a kiss. Why are you making it a big deal p>
Her cheeks flamed crimson. Blinking back embarrassment, she stomped on his calf in protest. “I am not overreacting p>
He barely even registered her weak little kicks, as if they were nothing more than a gentle breeze. “Not overreacting? Maybe you’re just nervous,” he murmured, closing the space between them and pressing her gently but firmly against the door.
Anneliese refused to look around, only meeting his gaze with a mix of embarrassment and irritation. “Stop it,” she hissed, voice sharp but trembling.
He dipped his head, trailing another feather-light kiss along her curled fingers. “Really… you don’t miss me at all, baby?” Every word dripped with huskiness. His eyes, raw with desire, scanned her like a predator closing in.
Every glance, every move radiated a dangerous hunger. Tonight, he wasn’t holding back-he intended to claim her fully, to bind her so completely that even if she wanted to resist, there’d be no escaping this marriage.
Her breath hitched, the pressure building in her throat until it tasted like the beginning of tears. “I don’t have it in me tonight,” she murmured, voice thin and shaky. “Please just let me breathe. Don’t corner me like this p>
Those wavering eyes-wet, unsure, pleading-pulled a sigh straight from Jonathan’s chest, quiet but heavy. Frustration and tenderness mixed in a helpless knot. Without a word, he bent down, lifting her effortlessly.
The mattress met her back before she even caught her balance. A shadow followed -warm, solid, inescapable—his body lowering over hers like a closing door.
Startled, she tried every instinctive escape at once: palms pushing, knees bracing, feet looking for leverage. But his leg slid between hers, anchoring her hips, and his hands found her wrists, weaving their fingers together before pinning them above her head.
In one breath, all motion left her. She squeezed her eyes shut, heart hammering with fear and helplessness. She waited for the shove, the grab, the overpowering momentum she feared was coming.
However, there wasn’t even a breath of movement from him. Her lashes twitched like nervous wings. She dared to peel her eyes open, only a sliver, and instead of some predatory advance—she met a face frozen in self-control.
Jonathan hovered above her like a statue carved out of tension, not desire. His eyes were dark, but the darkness came from holding himself back, not the urge to pounce. When her confusion finally registered, his voice scraped across the space between them. “Relax. I’m not going to do anything to you p>
A breath slipped out of her-half relief, half mortification. That relief only made her more flustered. She jerked her gaze away refusing to let him see per soften for even a second. “Then get off of me. And put some clothes on,” she ordered, as if authority could erase
embarrassment.
He didn’t budge. Not even a pretend attempt. “I’m fine like this.” Her head whipped back around on instinct. Her stare said Are you insane? without needing words.
He looked unconcerned, even lazy, a hint of smugness tugging at his mouth. “If I give you space, you’ll bolt out that door p>
Before she could hurl a single objection, his voice dropped her name into the space between them like a command. “Anneliese Claude p>
The name landed with unexpected weight. He’d never spoken it whole-not once. And certainly not here, with her trapped beneath him, breath tangled, skin heating against sheets and skin.
Her protest evaporated on her tongue. Instinct, shock, something nameless made her go still, eyes flying to his as if pulled by a thread.
A faint satisfaction flickered across his face, and he shifted his grip. Warm skin covered her slender palm, and the roughness of his calluses brushed her like sand dragged across satin. It unraveled her focus for just a heartbeat, enough for her pulse to stutter.
And then he tightened his hold. Not enough to hurt, but enough to warn. Enough to make her bones feel caught, claimed, held with a strength she couldn’t shake. Her heart lurched as his grip anchored her in place, and she had no choice but to meet him really look at him.
His gaze was a deep, storming sea, heat churning under the surface. A rough murmur scraped through the air, stopping her every thought in its tracks. “Pay attention p>
It wasn’t volume that struck her-it was the weight. The way the sound seemed dragged from somewhere deep and bruised side him heated with conviction, sharpened like it might cut if she looked away. “What ties me to you isn’t mercy. It isn’t guilt. And I am not trying to repay a debt p>
The words landed too close. Too raw. Her lashes trembled once, twice, like her heartbeat had tripped over itself and hadn’t found its rhythm again. He didn’t move away. Warm breath brushed her cheek, sharing the same pocket of air, tension stretching tight enough to choke.
“Your foster father died protecting me. Your foster mother broke under the aftermath. Three lives splintered because of choices I couldn’t undo,” he continued. “Yes, I carried that
weight. Yes, khated that couldn’t change it back then. I regretted it. I agonized over it. But those tragedies are not the reason I stayed close. They’re not why I watched over you. They’ve never been the reason p>
Anneliese froze, as if the world had gone silent around her. Jonathan looked back with a gaze so clear it cut like glass-resolute, unshaken, devoid of even a trace of uncertainty.
“I’m perfectly capable of knowing the difference,” he said, each word landing with a quiet finality. “Duty isn’t affection. Charity isn’t love. I don’t mistake apologies for feelings p>
Before the weight of his words could settle, he reached out—not urgently, but with the calm of a man who would not be questioned. His fingers wrapped around her hand, and he guided it, slow and controlled, until her palm rested over his chest. The heat of him radiated against her skin. Beneath it, his heartbeat slammed forward, relentless, like a drum trying to escape its casing-wild, forceful, as if it intended to abandon his body just to prove itself to her.