CHAPTER 128: OPEN YOUR EYES

"Love, do you need a kiss?" Roman murmured, his warm breath fanning across Julie’s cheek.

Her eyes widened instantly, and before she could think, she drew her face back, standing ramrod straight as if distance would somehow calm the wild rhythm of her heart.

"You... you should be pulling the zip, right?" she asked quickly, her voice betraying a nervous edge.

She tilted her chin, pretending to focus on the simple task at hand, though she couldn’t ignore the heat that rose to her skin.

Roman’s lips curved into the faintest smirk, the kind that carried both mischief and dominance.

"Sure, we’ll pull it up," he said, his tone deep and calm, "but first, turn around."

His large, veiny hand settled firmly on her waist. The sudden contact made her breath hitch.

Julie’s lashes fluttered, but she didn’t protest. The weight of his palm against her was steady, almost claiming, and before she realized it, he was guiding her around until she faced the mirror once again.

Her reflection stared back at her—flushed cheeks, parted lips, and eyes that tried to appear composed but betrayed every trace of nervous anticipation.

She clenched her fingers together in front of her, ready for him to finish pulling the zipper. But the hand on her waist never moved.

She waited. The seconds stretched longer than they should.

Julie’s brow furrowed slightly. Why is he still holding me?

Before she could turn to question him, she felt the shift. Roman’s grip tightened on her waist—not rough, but deliberate, enough to make her shiver.

Then, without warning, the warmth of him leaned in close, so close that his breath skimmed over the nape of her neck.

Her lips parted in a soft gasp, the mirror reflecting her surprise as she realized his face was nearly pressed into the middle of her back.

"Roman..." she whispered, barely audible, as if her voice itself feared to break the fragile tension building between them.

He inhaled, a deep, quiet sound of restraint and desire. Then, with a controlled slowness, he opened his mouth.

Julie’s eyes widened in disbelief as she felt the faint scrape of his teeth—not against her skin, but gently catching the metal of her zipper.

Her reflection showed her own stunned expression: cheeks tinted pink, eyes round, lips trembling as though holding back words she couldn’t form.

Roman’s jaw flexed as he bit lightly onto the zipper, his eyes half-lidded with focus, yet burning with the intensity of a man indulging in temptation disguised as an innocent act.

Every muscle in his face tightened with concentration, his brows drawing faintly as though even this teasing act required his full control.

Julie’s knees felt weak, her breath shallow.

Her chest rose and fell in quick, uneven waves as she stared at the mirror, watching him—her powerful husband, the man who always left her disarmed—use his teeth to do what his hands could easily accomplish.

And yet, she could not bring herself to stop him.

As the zipper gave way beneath his teeth, Roman’s lips brushed against the soft curve of her back, the faint graze of enamel against skin sending an electric jolt through Julie.

She gasped sharply, her whole body going rigid as though every nerve had frozen at once.

Her breath hitched—short, uneven—before she slowly forced herself to exhale, her chest rising and falling in shallow waves.

Roman, patient yet deliberate, pulled the zipper down with careful precision, his movements unhurried.

Julie stood tense, every second stretched thin with awareness.

She had been so distracted by the brush of his mouth that she forgot to hold the fabric in place.

And then—

With a soft tud, the gown slipped from her shoulders and pooled at her feet.

The sound echoed louder than it should have in the silence of the room. Roman, still crouched slightly from his position, stilled immediately.

His sharp eyes dropped instinctively to the fallen fabric. For a moment, he didn’t move.

His jaw tightened, his broad chest rising heavily as he tried to process what had just happened.

Julie’s throat worked as she swallowed, heat rushing to her face.

The realization of what had occurred struck her hard—his hand no longer steadying her waist, her gown gone, her body vulnerable.

She exhaled shakily, the sound betraying her frantic attempt to remain calm.

She tried to reach down, to clutch at the fabric that had slipped away from her body, but her trembling hands grasped at nothing but air.

A frantic chill swept over her as her eyes lifted to the mirror.

Her reflection made her heart lurch.

Her pupils widened in horror, her lips parting soundlessly as though she had just seen something she couldn’t bear.

Her entire posture stiffened, her face drained of composure.

Roman’s gaze, however, was still fixed on the crumpled gown around her legs.

His brows furrowed as unease settled over him, and for the first time, hesitation flickered across his sharp features.

He grimaced faintly, his mind calculating what to do—whether to pull back, to speak, or to pretend nothing had happened.

What made his chest tighten wasn’t the fallen gown, but the trembling of her legs.

He saw it clearly—the subtle shake that betrayed her fear or nervousness.

Something twisted in his gut at that sight, and his hand moved instinctively.

Slowly, deliberately, Roman reached down.

His long fingers gathered the fallen fabric from around her ankles, lifting it with surprising gentleness for someone with such strength.

He rose, his tall frame unfolding smoothly until his eyes leveled with hers again.

Julie’s body reacted before her mind did.

The moment the gown left the floor, her hands darted out, clutching the fabric desperately to her chest.

Her fingers dug into it as though it was her last defense, her hands trembling visibly.

Her wide eyes lifted to his face, ready to spill out an apology—something, anything—to break the unbearable tension. But as her gaze met his, she froze.

Because what she saw in Roman’s expression was not teasing mischief, not list or desire.

It was something else.

And it shocked her more than her own bare reflection.

Roman’s eyes remained closed, his tall frame still and composed, and that alone was enough to ease Julie’s frantic nerves.

It was clear—he hadn’t seen anything. Relief coursed through her, and despite the pounding in her chest, a genuine smile broke across her lips.

A soft, almost shy smile, rising from the very bottom of her heart.

Quickly, she slipped her arms back through the gown’s sleeves, muttering inwardly at them, blaming the treacherous fabric for sliding off in the first place.

Her fingers trembled slightly as she adjusted it, but her expression softened with quiet determination.

"Open your eyes," Julie whispered, her voice gentle, carrying both hesitation and trust.

Roman obeyed instantly. His lashes lifted, revealing those deep, penetrating eyes.

The moment his gaze met hers, Julie felt small beneath the weight of it—his intensity always had that effect—but the smile on her face didn’t falter.

Her heart beat faster, yet the tenderness in her expression remained.

Roman’s lips curved faintly.

"Are we set for the bath now?" His voice was smooth, unshaken, as if the gown had never slipped, as if nothing had just transpired between them.

He spoke casually, almost teasing, but with a softness that felt deliberate.

Julie blinked, startled for a moment by the way he said bath together, her cheeks heating immediately.

But Roman’s demeanor never wavered. He knew. He always knew. His woman wasn’t ready—not yet—for the depths of intimacy he envisioned.

But he also knew something else: forcing her was never an option.

He was patient. He would guide her slowly, teach her carefully, until she not only trusted him but also longed to explore every corner of love and pleasure by his side.

That was what love meant—not the selfish hunger of taking, but the discipline to wait and the devotion to cherish.

And if two partners shared that kind of love, there was no fear, no hesitation. Only safety. Only trust.

"I’ll be waiting outside," Roman said at last, his baritone warm, carrying a gentleness that wrapped around her like a protective shield.

His lips curved into a soft smile, one so subtle yet powerful it made Julie’s insides ache.

It was the kind of smile that killed her defenses slowly, leaving her breathless and helpless against the force of his quiet affection.

He turned, preparing to walk away, his long strides already carrying him toward the door.

But then—

Something warm, smooth, and soft slipped into his hand.

Roman paused instantly, eyes flickering down to where her delicate fingers had caught his much larger hand.

The contrast was striking—his hand broad, veined, commanding, while hers was small, trembling, yet so full of will.

Julie’s touch was light, hesitant, but it held him firmly enough to stop him.

Roman’s chest tightened, a deep stirring in his heart. Slowly, he turned his head back, his eyes locking onto hers, waiting silently for what she would say next.