Chapter 1605:
Even while staying home, Elena hadn’t neglected her work. If anything, she seemed more engrossed than ever—reviewing reports, writing notes, and taking calls with relentless focus.
That imbalance pricked Wesley’s jealousy. Lowering his head, he nuzzled her ear and murmured with mock injury, “Your husband feels abandoned. Don’t you think he deserves a little affection?”
His hand didn’t stay idle. It slid along her arm until it found her fingers, guiding them with teasing confidence toward him. His breathing turned uneven, a faint flush climbing his neck.
Elena shot him a look—half stern, half amused.
“You remember the rules,” she said softly.
“No fooling around for the first three months.”
His reply came out rough, threaded with need.
“We don’t have to go that far,” he whispered, restraint heavy in his voice.
“There are other ways… Please, sweetheart. I can’t take it anymore.”
The man who usually radiated absolute control now looked undone—eyes damp at the edges, desperation tucked behind every breath.
Elena’s composure faltered under that gaze. Her pulse quickened as she asked, almost against her will, “And what exactly do you mean by ‘something else’?”
Her resistance gave way. Her hand brushed him, tentative at first.
Wesley’s breath warmed her ear as his eyes darkened, his voice dropping to a whisper.
“Like this…”
Maybe it was the long restraint, but that night every touch seemed amplified. Even the slightest contact made his body tense, a broken sound catching in his throat as he shut his eyes, surrendering far too quickly.
Elena’s throat went dry watching him, her fingers tightening by instinct.
𝗙𝗶𝗿𝘀𝘁 𝗮𝗽𝗽𝗲𝗮𝗿𝗲𝗱 𝗶𝗻 gⱯ𝗅𝗇𝗈ν𝖊𝗅𝘀⧽𝖼𝗼𝗺
Wesley bit down on his lip, trembling as he tried—and failed—to steady himself. A heartbeat later, he went still, breath ragged.
Elena blinked, stunned. Already?
His chest rose and fell sharply, his skin flushed from his ears to his collarbone. It took him a long moment to gather himself before he finally opened his eyes, voice rasping.
“Sweetheart… are you trying to kill me?”
Elena was left speechless.
He adjusted his clothes only halfway—still disheveled, belt loose—and gently took her by the wrist, leading her to the sink. Without a word, he turned on the tap and washed her hand himself, careful and unhurried, then drew her back into his arms.
Elena expected him to continue, but instead he lifted her, carried her to bed, tucked the blanket around her, and closed his eyes as if he were content just to sleep beside her. He didn’t do anything else.
Elena arched a brow. It was strange. Wesley—who usually didn’t stop until they were both completely worn out—now seemed oddly restrained, as though his hunger had been soothed by that brief closeness.
Lulled by the faint, woody scent of cedar that always clung to him, Elena drifted to sleep against his chest.
But once her breathing evened out, Wesley’s eyes opened in the dark.
He slipped out of bed and went to the study, his expression more serious than it ever was when reviewing the Spencer Group’s annual reports. He stayed there until midnight.
.
.
.