Tycoon's Growing Obsession

9. Don't bully me

Alexander's pupils contracted sharply. A low groan escaped his throat. "Baby, please don't bully me anymore..."

He was really about to lose control. His little kitten was so alluring without even trying, and now she was actively seducing him—even if she didn't realize what she was doing.

This was the first time Alexander Ashford, who had always been powerful and in control, had been so thoroughly undone by another person.

"Hmph!" Lydia pulled back, looking pleased with herself. "Then let me drink, or I'll bully you again!"

Please do, Alexander thought desperately. Bully me as much as you want.

"Okay, okay," he said out loud. "One more sip. But that's it."

Baby, you asked for this.

He took a sip of the wine himself, then lowered his head and captured her lips, transferring the liquid from his mouth to hers.

"Mmm..." Lydia made a surprised sound, but then she melted into the kiss.

The sweet aroma of fruit wine lingered on their lips and tongues, dancing together. Alexander pulled Lydia closer, his arm tightening around her waist while his other hand cradled the back of her head.

Lydia unconsciously gripped the fabric of his shirt, her fingers twisting in the expensive material. Their breaths gradually mingled, becoming one.

The sounds outside the window—the ocean, the distant music from the celebration, the voices of other passengers—seemed to fade into nothing. There was only the soft whisper of lips meeting, the quiet gasps of breath, and the increasingly loud beating of two hearts.

Gradually, Lydia found it hard to breathe. She tried to push away the domineering man in front of her, her hands pressing weakly against his chest.

Alexander pulled back just enough to speak, his lips still brushing hers. "Baby, don't forget to breathe..."

"I can't," Lydia gasped. "I don't know how to—"

"It's okay," Alexander murmured, his voice like dark velvet. "I'll teach you. Breathe through your nose. Like this."

He demonstrated, then kissed her again, slower this time, gentler, giving her time to learn the rhythm.

Outside, the seawater pounded against the cruise ship, carrying the weight of the deep ocean, swirling around the hull. The wind and waves had nothing to do with the intimate moments inside.

As the temperature in the room gradually rose, the two figures entwined themselves more tightly together.

After kissing for what felt like hours, they finally broke apart.

Alexander leaned back against the bed, his shirt unbuttoned and hanging open, revealing his sculpted chest and abs. His hair was mussed from Lydia's fingers running through it. He looked every bit the seductive devil.

Lydia, still drunk and uninhibited, rolled around in his arms, her hands exploring freely. Sometimes she traced his Adam's apple, watching it bob when he swallowed. Sometimes she ran her fingers over his abs, counting them. Sometimes she just pressed her palm flat against his chest, feeling his heartbeat.

Alexander knew exactly how to use his advantages in front of Lydia. He knew what she liked, what made her eyes darken with interest. And right now, her small hand was squeezing his pectoral muscle experimentally.

"It's soft... but also hard," Lydia mumbled, fascinated. "I like it."

She lay sprawled across him, groping and kissing him indiscriminately—his neck, his collarbone, his chest, his jaw. Each touch made Alexander's breathing quicken, made his eyes glaze over as if he too were drunk.

"Baby," he said, his voice strained and rough. He caught her wandering hand and guided it lower, down his abdomen. "There's something else here. Something hard. Do you want to touch it?"

His gaze toward Lydia was dark and intense, pupils blown wide with desire.

"Yes!" Drunk Lydia was bold and curious, her face flushed and her eyes shining even brighter. She seemed determined to take full advantage of him tonight.

But before things could go too far, Alexander gently redirected her hand to safer territory. Not yet. Not when she was drunk. Not when she might regret it in the morning.

The two continued their playful exploration for ages before finally falling asleep in each other's arms in the early hours of the morning, thoroughly exhausted and completely happy.

3:00 AM

Lydia woke suddenly, her bladder uncomfortably full. She'd drunk way too much wine that night.

She tried to sit up but found something heavy and tight wrapped around her waist. Alexander's arm was draped over her, holding her close even in sleep, making it impossible for her to move.

After sleeping for two hours, Lydia was mostly sober now. She was also annoyed at being trapped.

She reached down and pinched his arm—hard. "Let go. I need to go to the bathroom."

Alexander's eyes opened immediately. He'd woken the moment she'd stirred—he was a light sleeper, always had been. But now that they were together, now that she was his, he was even more attuned to her every movement.

"Baby, let me carry you," he murmured, his voice rough with sleep.

"No way! I can walk myself!" Lydia protested, finally managing to wriggle out of his grip.

But Alexander followed her anyway, standing outside the bathroom door like a guard.

"Alex, this is ridiculous," Lydia called through the door. "I'm just using the bathroom!"

"I know. I'm waiting."

"You don't need to wait!"

"I want to."

When Lydia emerged, Alexander immediately scooped her up in his arms, carrying her back to bed despite her half-hearted protests.

"You're so clingy," Lydia mumbled as he settled them both under the covers, pulling her back against his chest.

"Is that a complaint?" Alexander asked, his lips brushing her ear.

"No," Lydia admitted, snuggling closer. "I kind of like it."

"Good. Because I'm going to be much worse."

On their very first official day of dating, Lydia was immediately struck by her boyfriend's intense clinginess. But she found it endearing rather than suffocating.

She liked this kind of profound, unique love. This feeling of being someone's entire world.

Lydia lay in bed, held tightly in his arms, surrounded by blankets that smelled like both of them—his cedar cologne mixed with her floral perfume.

Suddenly, she felt incredibly happy. It was the first time she'd felt truly, deeply happy since her mother had died.

"What is my baby thinking about that makes her smile so happily?" Alexander asked softly, his hand stroking her hair.

"I'm wondering why I like you so much," Lydia said honestly. "We've only known each other two months. This should feel too fast.

But it doesn't. It feels... right."

Her hand slipped under his pajama shirt, resting on his warm skin. Lydia swore she meant nothing by it—she just liked touching him, liked the connection.

But Alexander interpreted it as an invitation.

"Baby," he groaned, his hand catching hers. "Stop tempting me. I'm trying to be good."

"What if I don't want you to be good?" Lydia asked, then immediately blushed at her own boldness. "I mean—I didn't mean—"

"Lily," Alexander said seriously, turning her to face him. "Are you sure? Because if you keep touching me like that, keep looking at me like that, I won't be able to stop myself."

Lydia bit her lip, considering. They'd just gotten together. Maybe it was too soon. But she wanted him. She trusted him. And life was short—her mother had taught her that.

"I'm sure," she whispered.

What followed was tender and passionate and overwhelming. Alexander was gentle with her, patient, making sure she felt safe and cherished every moment.

And when they finally fell asleep again, thoroughly exhausted and tangled together, both of them wore matching smiles.

The Next Morning

Alexander had actually woken up around 9 AM, his internal clock too disciplined to sleep much later. But Lydia was lying in his arms, soft and warm and peaceful, her hair spread across his chest.

He couldn't bring himself to wake her. Couldn't bear to move and risk disturbing her rest.

So he just lay there, holding her, watching her sleep, feeling happier than he'd ever felt in his entire life.

This, he thought. This is what I've been missing. This is what makes everything else worthwhile.

His phone buzzed quietly on the nightstand—probably Marcus with urgent business matters. Alexander ignored it.

Nothing was more important than this moment. Than the woman in his arms.

When Lydia finally stirred around noon, blinking sleepily up at him, Alexander smiled.

"Good morning, beautiful."

"It's afternoon, isn't it?" Lydia mumbled, her voice adorably rough from sleep.

"Maybe. I lost track of time."

"How long have you been awake?"

"A few hours."

"Alex!" Lydia sat up, scandalized. "Why didn't you wake me? You must be starving!"

"I'm fine," Alexander said, pulling her back down. "I had everything I needed right here."

Lydia's heart melted. "You're impossible."

"I'm in love," Alexander corrected. "There's a difference."

And as they finally got up to face the day—ordering a late breakfast, showering together, planning their next adventure—both of them knew that something fundamental had shifted.

They weren't just dating anymore. They were building something real. Something lasting.

Something that would change both their lives forever.