Regina’s cheeks turned pale. Gray let out a soft laugh and reached out to caress her cheek.
“But it’s true that you’re still lovely. So, I’ll forgive you.”
What an impressively thick-skinned liar. To call someone as ghastly as her—just risen from a sickbed—lovely with that tone and those eyes.
Regina sighed inwardly as she thought to herself, It’s too soon.
She hadn’t expected Gray to agree to a divorce immediately.
After all, it had taken her three years to realize she’d been deceived.
Gray, too, would need time to understand—time to realize that she no longer intended to be fooled by him, and that this marriage could not continue. Once he grasped that, his opinion would surely change. He was not the type of man to persist in inefficiency.
“I promised to try, so I should show you, shouldn’t I?”
Before she could ask, show me what? his lips blocked hers.
His large fingers meticulously brushed through her hair and cupped her cheek. His lips pressed against hers at varying angles, carrying the faint taste of cigars and ale.
There was no room to catch her breath; every time she gasped for air, Gray’s scent overwhelmed her nose. Cool yet unbearably sensual, his aroma clouded her senses.
“Regina.”
His voice brushed her ears, low and sweet as molten chocolate. No melted confection could be this rich.
“Come here. My wife.”
As he pulled her into his arms, a blaring red warning flashed through her mind. She had been lonely for too long, making it difficult to push away the warmth drawing close.
“You’ve grown so thin. How pitiful.”
Gray sighed as his fingers traced over her prominent collarbones. The humid and heated breath, carrying undeniable desire, seeped through the thin fabric of her nightgown.
Her body responded faster than her lips could deny it. Her nipples hardened sharply, as if tugged by an invisible force, and the insides of her thighs, pressed tightly together, began to dampen. A slow, simmering heat spread from her navel to her entire body.
She bit her lip to suppress the rising moan, but the blush blooming across her cheeks betrayed her.
“So adorable.”
His tone, as if watching a kitten’s antics, stirred a rebelliousness in her. The moment Regina steadied her breath and parted her lips, his hands slipped beneath her nightgown.
“Gray…!”
The hands that had once seized her heart now greedily grasped her chest. Kneading and spreading as though molding dough, his touch was unrelentingly sensual.
“You’re so soft.”
“Gray, ah!”
Her voice wavered as his fingers pressed against her sensitive, taut nipples.
“Still the same. Your chest is as sensitive as ever.”
“P-please, stop…”
“Is it because your nipples are big?”
The teasing comment made her ears flush hot. Gray tugged down the loosened neckline of her chemise, baring her breasts. In stark contrast to her pale skin, her generously-sized areolas and plump, red nipples stood out.
“This here.”
Gray flicked a perfectly rounded nipple with his fingertip and smirked.
“You have no idea how biteable this looks.”
Who would have guessed that beneath the refined and elegant exterior of a fallen noblewoman lay such crude and lewd nipples?
Gray latched onto her swollen areola, swallowing it, his tongue curling like a snake around her nipple. His merciless tongue teased and toyed with her, making Regina tilt her head back and cry out.
“Ah…!”
The sharp suction made her vision flash, while the gentle licking melted her resolve. Her once-cold rationality and firm resolve dissolved entirely under his seduction.
By the time Gray lifted his damp lips, one of her nipples was already sore. She glanced down in shock, half-expecting it to be torn off, only to find it swollen to twice its original size.
“If I only pampered one side, the other would feel left out.”
Before she could object, he eagerly latched onto the other nipple. Her vision flickered again as waves of heat rolled over her in an endless cycle. Each time his sharp teeth grazed her, small tremors rippled through her lower abdomen, curling her toes involuntarily.
As he stroked her trembling waist, Gray whispered in a tone tinged with amusement, “So sensitive. So endearing.”
“Don’t talk with it… in your mouth…”
Honoring her wish, he stopped speaking and focused on flicking his tongue, eliciting sob-like moans that filled his ears with delight. She was already a mess from just this minor teasing.
Though her mind rejected him, her body was honest. A woman who responded only to him was the sweetest temptation of all.
Every time she broke apart so completely under his touch, a fierce desire to conquer her consumed him. He wanted her to let out more base and vulgar cries—only in front of him. Just like this.
Forever.
The unintentional thought made his brow furrow. He abruptly stopped, pulling away. Regina looked up at him in confusion, her tear-streaked, flushed face a picture of disarray. Her hazy, damp eyes met his, and Gray’s expression softened into a smile.
“I’ve reached my limit.”
Limit? Regina, still struggling to think clearly, glanced down instinctively. The bulge straining against his trousers made her pupils widen.
“My mind aches for it, but if I give in, your body might not make it through.”
Collecting the scattered fragments of his self-restraint, he donned the mask of a gentleman and pressed a kiss to her heart.
“You’re still unwell. So recover quickly—for the sake of your poor husband.”
***
Regina found herself swept up again. Feeling deep self-reproach, she brushed her tangled hair.
She had resolved to leave Gray Cavill, yet his beauty effortlessly swayed and toyed with her. Their personalities were unbearably incompatible, but their bodies fit together as if perfectly made for each other. His scent, the texture of his skin, the shape of his muscles, even his movements seemed crafted solely to captivate her, wielding absolute influence over her.
The ornate jewelry box containing the bracelet he had given her shone brightly, almost piercing her eyes. Staring at it, Regina let out a sigh.
“It’s too much.”
Her timid self was too scared of scratching it to even wear it properly. A few flowers, like the ones he used to give Barbara, would have sufficed.
Regina recalled a bittersweet memory. There had been a time when her husband showered her with flowers, so much so that it seemed like he intended to pave her every path with them.
Moments when she deluded herself into thinking he might love her
“As you know, I’m not the kindest man, so I’m not sure I’ll meet your expectations. But I’ll try.”
If only he had said that a little sooner. Then foolish as she was, she would have willingly believed in his promises.
She would have let herself be consumed by the fever of loving him, returning to those times when, as if walking in a dream without sleep and feeling full from love instead of food, he gazed at her with eyes radiant as the first dawn.
She would have let herself believe that falsehood.
“Madam, may I come in?”
At that moment, Dina knocked on the door from outside.
“What is it?”
“A letter has arrived from the Marquisate of O’Dear.”
“…From my family?”
Dina respectfully handed over the letter with both hands. Since the last incident, her slight deference to Regina was not unwelcome.
“You may leave.”
From the envelope emerged her father’s familiar handwriting. It was sealed with wax, so it didn’t seem Dina had read it.
“I’m glad to hear you’ve woken from your coma, my daughter. Thank you for returning to us.”
Her father’s letter began with these words, expressing his concern and longing for Regina. The mention of visiting her soon touched her deeply.
The letter also detailed the current state of their homeland, the O’Dear estate. There was quite a lot of news Regina had missed over the past year.
“So, Father started growing grapes last year.”
It was surprising. The main product of the O’Dear estate had always been wheat. In the plains personally bestowed by the king upon the first Marquis, golden wheat once grew as abundantly as the blazing summer sun.
There had been a time when O’Dear wheat accounted for over 30% of the kingdom’s total supply, her father would proudly say.
But as navigation technology advanced and trade between kingdoms flourished, the world changed. Waylin began importing wheat from other countries. Though slightly inferior in quality to O’Dear’s, it was half the price.
It was a battle they could never win. The O’Dear family’s finances, which had been deteriorating year by year, rapidly reached rock bottom. The empty granary passed down to her father, Ralph, weighed heavily on him, more than words could describe.
Though the letter spoke optimistically of a recent trend favoring raisin bread and predictions that wine would become Waylin’s signature drink within five years, Ralph’s burden must have been immense.
“My poor Father.”
Regina hated raisins.
***
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