Taming Him with My Innocence

Chapter-8

He began climbing up the stairs, muttering, "Let's go." He was moving as if I didn't weigh anything. He is a muscular man. I could feel butterflies in my stomach. I looked at him. We were in the 4th-floor corridor. I remembered that my dad warned me not to talk to this man, but I don't care anymore. I just don't want to get caught right now me in his arms. I hesitantly opened my mouth and said, "What is your name?" To that, he replied, with a smile on his face, "Finally, you have asked? My name is Rau..."

We reached my room. I couldn't hear his name properly, our eyes met, and he closed the distance between our lips like an apocalypse. I held his shirt tighter, and with another hand, I quickly opened the door. He slammed me into my soft mattress, and he jumped on top of me without leaving my lips. I gasped for air. He said," Let's take things slowly". I nodded in approval, staring at the ceiling. I could see how his huge figure was towering over me. Compared to him. I felt a little, they tried to adjust my dress. "He sat beside me," he stated," You are clumsy, you need to be careful walking in those heels". I replied," It's not my fault this time." I mumbled under my breath," It's because of you...." He was surprised. He said," Why am I at fault ? "What did I do? "I just stood there. " Akari, with a blank expression, stared at him. He chuckled, "Don't tell me you fell in love with me at first sight."

Just then, my stomach growled. He swiftly got up and made a call to someone. I was confused. I wanted to know a bit more about him, and I would love to spend some time with him. I was not able to catch his name. Would it be too embarrassing to ask him again?

I blushed hard after remembering what we were doing a little while ago. I could never imagine myself doing something like this,

He has returned and wants to recheck my wound. He took my hands and checked that the ointment he applied earlier was smudged. When I looked over his shoulder, I spread all the ointment all over his shirt. Then I said," I am so sorry I stained your shirt. "There was a blood stain on his shirt. "He said," Don't worry about my darling." Then the doorbell rang. He stood up to open the door. I panicked because if the person behind the door were my dad, then my life would be over. I wanted to cover my face with a pillow. I heard the door opening, and the hotel staff entered the room with food. He told me that as I was not able to have any breakfast, he ordered some to be brought into the room. I sighed in relief.

With tender concern in his voice, he murmured, "How can you possibly eat if your beautiful hands are wounded?" He carefully took the fork and knife, his movements gentle as he sliced the golden pancakes into delicate pieces. Then, with a sweet attentiveness, he began to feed me. A playful affection flickered in his eyes as he softly pinched my cheek while I was chewing, a warm smile gracing his lips. "Your cheeks are so adorably fluffy," he whispered.

I couldn't help but sulk a little, turning my head away with a touch of playful protest. A soft chuckle rumbled in his chest, and he said with gentle amusement, "You truly are like a little kid sometimes, aren't you?"

"But I am a woman," I replied softly, a hint of breathlessness in my voice. "You... you wouldn't have done those things you did before if I were just a baby."

His gaze softened, his eyes meeting mine with an intensity that made my heart flutter. A wave of warmth spread through me, my cheeks flushing a rosy hue with the sweet embarrassment of recalling the earlier incident. "I... I mean... I'm quite full now," I stammered, my pulse quickening. "You can stop feeding me, thank you."

He gently placed the cutlery beside the plate, and I sensed a subtle shift in the atmosphere, a quiet intimacy settling between us. My heart felt as though it were on fire, its rapid beating echoing loudly in my ears. I nervously feared he could hear its frantic rhythm, and I instinctively began to cross my legs.

"Let me just take another quick look at your wound," he said, his voice laced with a tender care.

"But... you already did," I whispered, my gaze still shyly averted.

He clarified gently, "Yes, but you also hurt your ankle, didn't you? I need to make absolutely sure it isn't swollen."

He knelt before me, his movements reverent as he gently took my leg and placed it upon his lap. His tender touch sent a delicate ticklish sensation through me, and I couldn't help but quiver slightly beneath his touch. "Is it painful?" he inquired softly, his eyes filled with concern.

"No," I murmured, a little breathless, "it just feels... strange."

"I will apply the pain medicine now," he said gently. He took a soft cotton swab and began to carefully dab the medication onto my skin. Then, his gaze lifted, and he expressed a need to check the wound on my knee. A wave of surprise washed over me as he suddenly, yet respectfully, lifted the hem of my frock, revealing my legs. He inspected the abrasion with focused attention, finally remarking in a low voice, "The bleeding has stopped." He then instructed me in a soft, husky tone to apply the medication regularly.

A moment later, his fingers trailed slowly, almost hesitantly, across my inner thigh, sending shivers down my spine. He then lightly pressed his lips to my ankle, a feather-light kiss that sent a jolt of unexpected sensation through me. Slowly, he began to ascend, his lips trailing a warm path upwards. Instinctively, I placed my hand on his head. He paused, taking my hand in his, and began to kiss my palm and fingers with a tender reverence, carefully avoiding my injured areas. I shivered, a sensation entirely new and intoxicating washing over me. I had never felt the exquisite tenderness of a man's kiss before in my life.

To be continued....