CHAPTER 165: THE ART OF SURRENDER

** You can skip the Chapter, as this Chapter doesn’t have any development to the story other than our leads getting steamy **

The master bedroom of the penthouse was bathed in a soft, amber glow, wrapping the space in hushed intimacy. The city beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows pulsed with life like distant constellations. Yet within the room, time seemed suspended.

The vast bed, draped in black and green blankets, dominated the space, its shadow stretching toward the glass where the faint reflection of the couple could almost be seen, a blurred silhouette of an entangled couple.

On the bed, Aveline lay with her head tipped toward the footboard, her gaze locked on the depth of Alaric’s eyes. Desire smoldered in his gaze, sharpened by the warm, dim light that outlined his jaw and the fine tension in his lips.

He hovered over her, his weight carefully measured, pressing down just enough to remind her that she was inescapable.

She had never been one to yield, yet under him, every stubborn instinct trembled, not from weakness but from the overwhelming force of his slow, deliberate devotion.

Alaric dipped his head. Her lips parted in expectation, but instead of claiming her mouth, his breath fanned across the hollow of her neck. Heat rippled down her spine before his lips grazed her sensitive skin.

"Platonic..." His voice was low, husky, tinged with sarcasm, though his mouth curved against her neck with a tenderness that betrayed the word. "... you said."

Aveline shuddered. His warm breath at her ear was maddening, every exhale skimming over her skin until her body reacted on instinct, her chest rising with quiet tremors.

With this man around, enjoying a platonic relationship was impossible. It wasn’t like she had any complaints.

When his mouth opened and closed over the hollow beneath her ear, sucking firmly, she bit down on her lip, stifling the sound that wanted to escape. Her hand found his shoulder, gripping tightly as if she could keep herself sane against the sudden flood of sensation.

But Alaric wasn’t satisfied with her restraint. His lips trailed higher, finding the delicate curve of her ear, a teasing kiss, a soft nibble, while his free hand grabbed her wrist and pinned it firmly against the bed.

She quivered, her lashes fluttering shut as the world narrowed to nothing but the press of his mouth, the deliberate rhythm of his touch, and the weight of his body.

Every kiss down her neck was measured, slow and deliberate, like a painter’s brushstroke layering fire across her skin.

Heat bloomed beneath his lips, each one trailing the next until her body arched instinctively, a soft sound spilling out despite her attempts to hold it in.

Her composure was wearing thin, unraveling under his steady persistence.

"Every inch of you is mine to cherish," he whispered into her skin, the words a vow cloaked in desire.

Her breath caught, chest rising and falling with urgent rhythm, her body trembling under the weight of his devotion as much as need. He didn’t just touch her, he claimed her without chains, without force, making her feel desired and seen.

She smiled faintly, helpless against the wave of longing coursing through her veins.

He found another tender spot, and she tilted her head back, surrendering fully to him. "Alaric..." Her voice broke on his name like a breathless murmur.

As if her invitation had been what he was waiting for, his lips finally found hers. Not rough, not soft, but perfectly consuming, stealing her reason. His mouth moved against hers like he had all the time in the world, like she was honey and he would not stop until he savored every drop.

The kiss was a storm, hungry and breathtaking. She was addicted to it.

Her fingers raked through his hair, pulling him closer, breathless sounds breaking into hums of pleasure. The sound of their connection filled the room, heady and unrestrained, like two souls devouring each other.

When she could no longer breathe, she yanked at his hair, breaking free just enough to gasp for air.

Her hazy gaze found his lips curving in a devilish arc. He tilted her head and captured her again, fiercer this time, as if she were his only breath.

Their tongues tangled, their kiss growing messy, reckless, almost embarrassing in its intimacy.

The sound of their mouths filled the dim room, a rhythm of wet, desperate devotion, making the air heavy with something far more dangerous than lust.

Aveline clung to him, her nails dragging across his jaw before his hand caught her free hand, pinning it against the mattress. She couldn’t move.

Pinned beneath him, she was both vulnerable and blazing with desire, her flushed, intoxicating form capable of bringing the strongest of men to their knees.

When he broke the kiss, she gasped for air, her chest pressing against his, tempting his control. His tongue brushed her swollen lips before he drew them softly between his teeth, pulling a restrained sound from her throat.

The response froze him.

He didn’t want restraint, he wanted everything. Her gasps, her cries, her whispers, and her surrender to everything he did to her.

"Don’t hold back..." His voice was like rough velvet against her lips, his breath hot as it spilled into her mouth. "Let me hear you."

Aveline shivered, her lashes fluttering open to meet his burning gaze. Her lips trembled, a wordless plea almost escaping before she could stop it. But then his mouth was on hers again, silencing her in a kiss that swallowed every restraint she had left.

When he abruptly broke the kiss, her trembling betrayed how much she was holding back. Then, in one smooth movement, he lifted her from the bed. Aveline barely found her footing before he pressed her against the cold glass of the window.

Her gasp echoed softly in the room, her body trapped between his heat and the night city’s cold glow. His hand slid up her arms, pinning her wrists high above her head, his body anchoring her in place. She shivered at the stark contrast of warmth and cold, her skin alive and sensitive everywhere he touched.

His lips crashed into hers again, hungrier, wilder, like a wolf finally claiming its prey. Her soft cries melted into his mouth, her body arching against his warmth, every sound she made feeding the fire in him.

His hand slipped beneath her shirt, grazing her waist with slow intent. A shiver gushed through her, a soft sound escaping her lips that only urged him on. His palm wandered upward, pressing, claiming every curve until it stilled over the swell of her chest.

The heat of his touch teased her through the lace, her body responding instantly to his palm. She wanted the fabric gone, wanted nothing between his skin and hers. But she didn’t get to voice the thought.

Because when he gave a slow, deliberate squeeze, her head fell back, a helpless sound tumbling out.

Alaric’s mouth brushed along her jawline, leaving brief, burning kisses, watching her as his hand molded her softness, drawing out more breathless responses, her voice breaking on his name.

"Alaric..."

She couldn’t differentiate between pleasure and sweet torture when the fire was burning in her core. Without anything to anchor herself, she could only surrender to the sensations he was creating.

His fingers slid under the lace, seeking the other aching peak that begged for his attention. A pinch to her hard nipple sent her knees trembling, but his body pressed firmly against hers, keeping her upright, hearing a curse slip past her lips.

"f**k..."

He caught her fullness in his hand, watching the way she held her breath, eyes barely open, lips parted in anticipation. And when he squeezed, she melted against him, her head dropping to his chest, a deep sound escaping her throat.

He didn’t stop. She trembled, breathless against the cold window, yet set aflame by his touch, her body betraying her composure with every gasp, every yielding arch into his hand.

Just when she thought he might finally give in, she felt the hard press of his arousal against her stomach, stealing her breath. But instead of surrendering, Alaric suddenly released her wrists.

In the next second, the sharp rip of fabric filled the air as he tore open her shirt, buttons scattering in the dim light like sparks. She stood before him in nothing but lace, the thin lingerie clinging to her curves.

The cool air brushed her skin, but she didn’t get the chance to shiver. Alaric bent low, burying his face against her chest, teeth grazing the soft arch of her swell. A cry slipped from her lips, sharp and needy, as her hands clutched his hair.

His palms slid around her back, sure and unrelenting, until he found the clasp of her lace. A flick, and it gave way. The straps slid down her arms, the fabric falling uselessly between them, leaving her bare to his gaze and touch.

He didn’t rush. Instead, he teased, his mouth claiming one aching peak while his hand rolled the other between his fingers. Her responses grew louder, echoing in the quiet room, each sound making him linger longer, harder, hungrier.

Her body arched into him, desperate, silently pleading for more. He felt it, the way she trembled against him, the way her chest pressed forward as if begging to be devoured.

For a moment, she thought he would finally give in, that he had taken her completely. But Alaric only lifted his head, eyes dark, lips curling in a faint, merciless smile.

"Ask me," he murmured against her ear, his breath hot, commanding.

Her throat was dry, her heart racing, but the word slipped out anyway, broken, helpless. "Alaric..."

His answer was a low, rough chuckle. "Wrong."

Before she could even process it, he spun her around, pressing her front against the cold glass wall. The chill shocked her skin, making her gasp, but his body pressed close behind her, hard and immovable, grounding her. One of his hands pinned hers to the glass, the other slipping low, unhurried, sliding past the waistband of her pants.

Her breath hitched, a startled sound escaping her, but it died in her throat the moment his fingers brushed where she ached most.