CHAPTER -11
1304 Words
The Next Morning
The morning sun poured in through the curtains, casting a soft golden glow across the massive bedroom. Evelyn stirred slightly, letting out a small, content sigh as she burrowed deeper into the warmth beside her.
Lucian’s warmth.
She was wrapped around him like a koala — one leg tossed over his hip, arms tangled around his torso, cheek pressed against his bare chest like he was a human pillow.
Lucian blinked at the ceiling, lips pressed into a tight line.
"Are you serious right now?" he muttered under his breath.
He hadn’t slept all night.
Not because she was snoring. No — she didn’t even snore.
But because she had, without an ounce of shame, latched onto him like a damn lifeline in her sleep. Every time he tried to gently push her away, she clung harder. Like a sleepy little vine crawling right back.
Now here he was — stiff as a board, literally trapped under his very unwanted wife.
Unwanted. Right.
Then why the hell was his hand resting on her waist? Why hadn’t he pushed her off when she kissed his chest in her sleep?
Lucian clenched his jaw.
He turned his head, slowly, glaring down at the woman glued to him like a barnacle. A very soft, warm, good-smelling barnacle.
Her lips were slightly parted, her breath slow and even, lashes fluttering peacefully. Her hair was a mess, her nightgown slipping off one shoulder, and yet—God help him—she looked annoyingly adorable.
"You better not make this a habit," he grumbled, trying to untangle himself without waking her.
Wrong move.
She sighed again — and hugged him tighter.
Lucian froze. "What the—Evelyn."
No response.
Just more cuddling. Her thigh brushed dangerously close to certain regions that had no business reacting at this hour. Lucian’s eyes narrowed in frustration.
“You’re testing me, Hart,” he muttered.
“Even in your sleep.”
But instead of pushing her off, his hand stayed. His thumb brushed lightly over her waist, tracing slow circles he’d deny the moment she woke up.
Just five more minutes, he told himself.
Just five.
after few minutes.
Warmth. Solid. Muscular.
Evelyn's lashes fluttered as she shifted slightly — only to realize her entire body was wrapped around Lucian Blackwood like a vine strangling a tree.
One leg slung over his waist. Arms tucked beneath his. Face nuzzled directly against his bare chest. Her red silk nightgown had ridden dangerously high.
A slow grin curled her lips.
Oh, this is going to be fun.
She tilted her head up and whispered, “Morning, hubby. You look tense. Was it me? Or just the crushing weight of your daddy issues?”
Lucian didn’t even blink. His jaw ticked, eyes still fixed on the ceiling.
“I woke up trapped under a human octopus. Of course I’m tense.”
“Human octopus?” she gasped, mock offended. “Excuse you — this octopus happens to have great legs. And apparently excellent taste in sleep-snuggling.”
He slowly turned his head, eyes dark. “You were drooling on my chest.”
“That wasn’t drool.”
He blinked. “What?”
She winked. “Kidding. Or am I?”
Lucian sat up in one fluid motion, untangling her like she was a contagious virus. Evelyn let out a dramatic sigh and flopped onto the pillows.
“Relax, Lucian. It’s not like I climbed into your bed on purpose. My subconscious just has good taste.”
He stood, grabbing a shirt off the chair. “My bed. My room. My life. And now, apparently, my personal space is a community park.”
“Don’t flatter yourself,” she yawned, stretching in a way that made her gown slip lower, just enough to make his eyes flick for a fraction of a second. “You’re warm. That’s the only reason I cuddled you. Like a space heater with an attitude problem.”
He paused, shirt halfway on. "And yet somehow, I survived the night without strangling you. Impressive self-control, really."
"Don't strain yourself," she said sweetly. "You'll need that self-control when I walk around the house like this all day."
She slowly slid out of bed — barefoot, tousled hair, red silk clinging in all the right places — and gave him a saucy little smile.
Lucian swallowed hard. His shirt was inside out. He didn’t notice.
“You’re doing this on purpose.”
“What, existing?”
“Being annoying.”
She leaned in close, almost nose to nose. “Oh sweetheart… if I really wanted to annoy you, you’d be crying in a corner right now.”
Lucian took a slow breath, trying — failing — to ignore the scent of her shampoo, the heat of her body, and that devilish little sparkle in her eyes.
“Keep talking, Hart.”
“What? Afraid of a little conversation with your adorable wife?”
“Afraid I might kiss you just to shut you up.”
Silence.
Evelyn blinked.
Lucian blinked.
Then she smirked — slow and dangerous.
“Try me, Blackwood.”
His jaw clenched. He turned and walked straight out of the room, muttering—
“Unbelievable.”
Evelyn called after him, “Thanks for the cuddle, babe! Let’s do it again tonight — same position?”
No answer.
Just the slam of the door.
And her laughter echoing through the penthouse.
Evelyn padded into the bathroom, still wearing the red silk nightgown that clung to her curves like a second skin. The cool marble beneath her feet sent a shiver up her spine — or maybe that was just the memory of Lucian’s flustered expression.
God, that man was so easy to mess with.
She turned on the shower, letting the steam slowly fill the room. As she reached up to pull her hair into a loose bun, her gaze drifted to the foggy mirror.
A smirk tugged at her lips.
“Let’s give Mr. Grumpy CEO something to stress about.”
Slipping the gown off her shoulders, she stepped into the shower, letting the hot water cascade down her skin. She hummed to herself — something teasing and sweet — as she lathered shampoo into her hair.
And then…
The door creaked open.
She froze, just for a second.
A voice, low and extremely annoyed, floated through the steam.
“Are you seriously singing in my shower?”
She grinned.
“Oh, your shower? I wasn’t aware you copyrighted the plumbing, Blackwood.”
Lucian didn’t respond immediately. She could hear the frustration in his breath from the other side of the glass.
“You’ve been here less than twenty-four hours and somehow you’ve already taken over my bed, my closet, and now my bathroom.”
“Please,” she scoffed. “I’m just making this house less depressing. You should be thanking me.”
“For hijacking my life?”
“For making it entertaining,” she said, reaching for the body wash with exaggerated flair. “You're welcome.”
Lucian muttered something under his breath. She couldn’t hear it, but the tone? Oh, it was lethal.
She turned slightly, knowing full well the frosted glass only gave a blurry outline of her body — enough to drive him insane, but not enough to be considered scandalous.
“Are you still standing there, Blackwood?”
Silence.
She smiled wider. “Enjoying the view?”
“I have meetings,” he growled. “Don’t flatter yourself.”
“Oh, I’m not flattering myself,” she cooed, rinsing off. “I just know you’ll be thinking about this shower all day. Probably during your most important board meeting.”
A pause.
Then the door slammed shut again.
And Evelyn burst into laughter, water echoing around her like applause.
"God, he's so easy."
- Writer
