CHAPTER 225: IT TOOK EVERYTHING IN ME TO GIVE IT TO YOU

Anna had lost count of how many times she came undone before him. Her body had surrendered to wave after wave of pleasure until she couldn’t distinguish one climax from the next. But Daniel... Daniel never seemed to tire. He kept going, licking her clean with slow, indulgent strokes as if she were the sweetest dessert he’d ever tasted.

Only when her legs finally gave out—trembling violently before collapsing limply onto the sheets—did he lift his head.

He leaned up to kiss her lips, soft and careful, before releasing her hands from where he had pinned them. Then he pulled her into his arms. Anna melted into him like a limp doll, drained of every ounce of strength, yet she instinctively snuggled into his warmth and the familiar fragrance that always made her feel safe... and drowsy.

"You taste like heaven, wifey," Daniel murmured against her hair, shameless and low. "It makes me want to keep eating you forever."

She let out a weak little hum, barely audible. "That’s why you tied my hands... because you knew if you didn’t, I would’ve flipped you over."

Her breathless accusation made a deep rumble vibrate through Daniel’s chest. He chuckled, the sound rich and warm, and stroked her hair lovingly.

He didn’t deny it... because she was right. And he was damned glad he’d been able to keep her beneath him long enough to worship her the way he wanted.

A quiet moment stretched between them, soft and intimate. Anna lay curled against him, breathing slowly, while Daniel held her as though she were the most precious thing in his world.

But his gaze drifted.

Down to her hand.

To the angry red marks marring her soft skin—Fiona’s marks.

His chest tightened painfully. A sharp, protective ache gripped him, and his eyes darkened, simmering with rage he had barely contained earlier.

The darkness in him stirred again.

No one hurt his wife. No one.

His arms tightened around her, the tension in his body unmistakable. Anna followed the direction of his gaze—down to the angry red marks on her hand.

A shadow passed over her face, but she didn’t look away.

"Fiona was never really a friend," Anna whispered, her voice tired yet painfully honest. "A foe disguised as one... and I regret not seeing it sooner."

She looked up at him then, their eyes meeting in a rare, raw moment.

Daniel had expected her to shrink away from the topic, to avoid it like she always did. But seeing her finally open up to him, finally letting him into a piece of her pain made something inside him shift.

The burning rage gripping his heart faltered, softened by the trust she was offering him.

"I thought she understood me," Anna continued quietly. "I thought she was the one person I could rely on... someone I could open my life to."

Her throat tightened, but she forced herself to speak. "Instead, she turned out to be the biggest mistake I ever made."

Her fingers curled slightly against his chest.

"She didn’t just break my trust, Daniel. She crushed it—brutally. So much that I didn’t know how to trust anyone after that."

The words hung between them—fragile, wounded, honest. And Daniel felt something heavy settle in his chest.

Not anger. Not fury.

But a fierce, aching protectiveness... and the realization that his wife was finally letting him see the scars she hid deeper than the physical ones made him feel anxious.

"So don’t break my trust," Anna whispered, exhaustion threading through every word. "It took everything in me to give it to you. If you fail me... there’s no going back."

Her voice was weak, drowsy, but the weight of her words struck Daniel with brutal force.

He finally saw the depth of her fear—the fear she kept buried under stubbornness and fire. And knowing he was now holding something so fragile, something she’d fought so hard to give... only tightened the coil of guilt in his chest.

Daniel loved her. He was honest about that.

But he also knew there was a part of his life—dark, dangerous, unavoidable—that he was still keeping from her. A truth that could shatter this fragile trust she just placed in his hands.

And that terrified him.

No. I can’t lose her.

Anna will have to understand why I did what I did... why I hid what I hid.

He glanced down at her, heart pounding with a fear he never admitted aloud.

But the moment his eyes landed on her—snuggled against him, already drifting into sleep with her lips slightly parted—his rage, guilt, and fear all softened.

His expression melted instantly.

Daniel lifted a hand and cupped her face gently, brushing his thumb over her soft skin as if memorizing every curve, every freckle, every breath she took.

"I won’t break your trust, Anna," he whispered, voice low, steady, almost a vow. "I promise you that."

A shift occurred in his eyes—warmth darkening into something far more intense.

"But..." His thumb stilled on her cheek. "You don’t get to leave me."

Daniel stayed beside her for a long moment, watching the gentle rise and fall of her chest before he finally peeled himself away from the bed and slipped into the bathroom.

He returned with a warm towel and carefully began cleaning her. Anna didn’t stir—not even a flutter of her lashes—completely drained from the intensity he had wrung out of her. The sight alone made a deep, satisfied chuckle vibrate through his chest.

"If she gets this tired just from my mouth," he murmured under his breath, amused, "I wonder how she’ll survive when I finally pound into her."

His thoughts wandered—wild, scorching, unfiltered. Thoughts of his wife beneath him, around him, begging for him, taking him. Every image ignited him like dry tinder catching flame. But he forced himself to rein it in.

As much as he wanted her, as much as he burned for her, he also wanted to make sure she was strong enough to handle the intensity of his desire—the insanity he felt for her.

Not tonight. Not yet. They would reach that point, but slowly, steadily. He’d make sure she was ready—physically, emotionally, utterly.

He made a mental note of everything she needed to eat to build her stamina... though one ridiculous idea flickered in his head.

Should I ask her mother for that potion she gave her?

His entire body went cold.

"Nope. Wifey would kill me," he muttered immediately, shuddering at the mental image. He shook his head hard, as if physically tossing the thought out of his brain.

Once she was cleaned and tucked comfortably beneath the covers, Daniel retreated to the bathroom himself. He washed up, changed into fresh clothes, and then returned to the bed—sliding in beside her with a softness that contradicted every dark, possessive thought running through his mind.

He wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her gently into his chest. And with a quiet exhale, he let her warmth settle his racing thoughts.