Chapter 85

Each time he lifted and lowered her, the water in the bathtub surged like a stormy sea, spilling over the edge and onto the floor. Their ragged breaths intertwined, echoing through the dimly lit bathroom.

“I love you. I love you, Elena.”

Kennard growled deep in his throat, his voice thick with emotion, before pulling her close and shifting their positions. Pressing her back against the cool surface of the tub, he lifted her with ease, securing her legs in his arms.

“Ah… Your Grace—”

With unwavering intent, he reclaimed her as if drawn by an irresistible force. Elena gasped, clinging to him, her arms wrapping instinctively around his neck. Each movement sent her body arching against the curved edge of the bathtub, the rhythm pushing her higher until she had to grasp the rim to steady herself.

Her delicate hands, already pale, tensed with exertion, veins faintly visible beneath her skin. The sensation overwhelmed her, an unfamiliar heat pooling deep inside. The more he sought her, the more she felt herself unraveling, caught in an unrelenting current.

She had no idea where to place her hands, how to catch her breath, or even if she could keep her eyes open. The intensity swept through her, leaving her trembling in its wake.

“Ah… Your Grace, it’s… too much. Please, just a little slower…”

Her desperate plea barely carried over the sound of rippling water and the hushed growl in his throat.

“All day… No, for years, I could keep you locked away like this, holding you close, never letting go. I crave you that much.”

His whispered confession was laced with a fevered need, his grip tightening as if afraid she might slip away.

Elena’s breath hitched. The moment built to its peak, tipping her over the edge.

And as he shuddered, drawing her impossibly close, he surrendered himself entirely to her.

***

Elena remained where she was, unable to move, leaning weakly against his chest.

Since his return to the palace, he had reached for her countless times, drawing her into his embrace again and again. At times, the sheer intensity of his presence had left her lightheaded, slipping into a haze of warmth and exhaustion.

Even after they had left the bath and returned to the bedroom, Kennard showed no sign of restraint. The passage of time blurred, the silver glow of the moon outside the window indistinguishable from the night before—or perhaps an entire day had passed.

Now, he sat propped against the headboard, cradling her in his arms. He had even stopped her from slipping on a nightgown, insisting she remain beneath the sheets as she was.

A quiet knock at the door signaled a tray of food left by the attendant, yet Kennard hardly allowed her a moment apart from him.

“Eat a little more,” he murmured, lifting a spoonful of stew to her lips.

“I’m full,” she whispered.

“You’ve barely eaten anything.”

Though she insisted she had enough, he remained persistent, determined to ensure she was well cared for.

“You need to gain a little more weight.” Kennard murmured as he placed his palm over Elena’s stomach, rubbing it gently.

Startled by his touch, she flinched, her lips parting slightly in surprise. Seizing the moment, Kennard swiftly brought the spoon to her mouth, urging her to take another bite of stew.

After wiping away a stray drop from the corner of her lips, he brought his fingers to his own mouth, tasting it with an indulgent slowness.

Realizing there was no avoiding it, Elena resigned herself to eating. It seemed he wouldn’t be satisfied until she finished everything in the bowl.

When she complied without protest, a pleased smile appeared on Kennard’s lips.

“That’s right. You need to eat well to keep up. Do you have any idea how much I’ve been holding back, afraid you might collapse?”

She choked on her next bite.

As she struggled for breath, Kennard immediately reached for the glass of water on the tray, pressing it to her lips. She took a few gulps, the liquid cooling her throat, though her heart still pounded wildly.

Holding back?

The weight of his words sent a warmth rushing through her, yet at the same time, a chill ran down her spine.

“Do you not believe me?”

His voice was quiet, almost amused, as if he could see right through her thoughts. Tilting his head, he traced the moisture on her lips with his tongue before offering her another bite of stew.

Elena focused on chewing, relieved that she didn’t have to respond. But the moment she tried to swallow, she felt an unmistakable firmness pressing against her back—Kennard’s body, impossibly taut.

She willed herself to ignore it, forcing down the food, but her throat tightened, betraying her composure.

Setting the tray aside, Kennard shifted, never once loosening the arm he had wrapped around her waist. Every movement brought them impossibly close, his warmth seeping into her skin.

The realization of what he might do next made her pulse quicken—not just with apprehension, but with something dangerously close to anticipation.

What am I thinking?

Unsettled by her own thoughts, she clutched the sheets tightly and leaned forward, putting some distance between them.

“Your Grace, I… I can’t anymore.”

She meant it. If he held her again, she was certain she wouldn’t be able to move for days.

“Are you tired?”

His voice was deep, laced with concern, but as he pressed his face into her shoulder, his warm breath sent shivers down her spine.

He slid an arm under the covers, pulling her closer against him.

Elena quickly nodded, placing her hand over his in silent appeal, gently patting it as though soothing a restless child.

“You don’t have to do anything.”

His lips brushed over her shoulder as he whispered, his words meant to reassure her.

Relief coursed through her. Though he showed no intention of letting her go, at least he seemed willing to respect her limits.

Or so she thought.

In the next moment, she found herself lying on the bed, Kennard’s weight settling over her.

A sharp breath caught in her throat as he wrapped an arm beneath her back, his gaze locking onto hers.

“Your Grace…”

Elena swallowed hard, meeting his heated golden eyes.

“I’ll take care of everything,” he murmured. “You only need to surrender to me and feel pleasure.”

Kennard’s face was already flushed with heat, his golden eyes gleaming with an intensity that seemed to consume her whole.

“I want you to need me—to crave me the way I crave you. To the point of madness.”

With those words, he captured her lips in a deep, searing kiss.

At the same time, she felt the weight of him pressing closer, his presence undeniable.

“Mm—” Elena gasped, her arms wrapping instinctively around his back.

She had pushed him away moments ago, insisting she couldn’t take any more. But now, as he reclaimed her, a powerful wave of longing surged through her, shattering any resistance.

Noticing the way she responded to him, Kennard let out a low, satisfied sound, his movements growing more fervent.

Elena clutched the sheets as her body trembled beneath his. He had told her she didn’t have to do anything—but remaining still, letting him love her without reciprocating, was impossible.

Every time his lips and tongue traced over her skin, leaving behind lingering warmth, or when he nipped gently at the sensitive curve of her neck, shivers rippled through her body.

She tried to steady herself, to regain control, but Kennard was relentless, drawing her back into the storm of sensations.

The overwhelming pleasure left her breathless, her fingers gripping onto his shoulders as she surrendered completely.

Time blurred as he led her higher, the intensity between them building to its peak.

Finally, a deep tremor ran through him, his breath hitching as he held her even closer.

Elena arched beneath him, her entire body tightening as she followed him over the edge.

For a long moment, neither of them moved. The warm glow of the lamplight reflected off their sweat-kissed skin, their rapid breaths the only sound in the quiet room.

Elena exhaled shakily, her limbs falling limply against the bed.

Kennard, too, released a deep, ragged breath as if he had just run an impossible distance.

Yet, even as exhaustion settled over them, he didn’t pull away. Instead, he wrapped her in his arms, pressing her against him as though reluctant to let her go.

He kissed her again—slow, lingering, possessive. Then, trailing his lips lower, he brushed against the shell of her ear, his breath warm as he whispered against her skin.

Elena, still dazed, slowly opened her eyes at the sound of his voice.