Chapter 3 She Likes to Bite
“Is this gentle enough?” he murmured, a smile curling at the edge of his voice.
“Mmm.” She drifted, the room narrowing to warmth and the rhythm of his breath.
His kisses wandered lower; fabric yielded under patient hands until cool air kissed overheated skin.
Desire flared in his eyes. He gathered her close, exploring with a reverence that stole her breath and left trembling in its wake.
Her hands slid to his shoulders; without thinking, she leaned into him, into the shelter of his body.
His hold at her waist tightened, anchoring her.
His palms traced a slow path, deft with buttons and hesitation both.
Barriers yielded, one by one, until there was nothing left but heat and the thrum of want.
He bent to her with a tenderness that turned thought to white noise.
Pleasure flickered up her spine; she arched, startled by the force of it.
“Theodore—” Her plea wavered between retreat and need.
“Only if you want me,” he breathed, gentling her with his voice. “Close your eyes.”
His steadiness coaxed her past the edge of fear; she met him, breath for breath.
Their mouths found each other again, deeper now, certain.
They crossed the last distance together, the world tilting as if the room itself exhaled.
A sharp ache bloomed—brief, inevitable.
She caught her lip, a soft sound escaping despite herself.
He hushed her with kisses—mouth, brow, the bridge of her nose—patient until the tension unwound.
At length the ache eased; her breath found its rhythm again.
He drew a steadying breath and moved with intent—no longer a siege, but a vow.
Whatever armour he wore fell away.
Luna let the moment carry her; she held on as if the ground had vanished beneath them.
Silence pooled slowly around them, punctuated only by their uneven breaths. His hand stayed at her cheek, tracing the tremor there; her fingers curled in the sofa’s fabric, unwilling to let go.
And from outside, cutting through the fragile hush, came the low growl of an engine in the drive.
Noah had returned.
“Luna.” Theodore’s voice brushed the darkness, low and roughened with sleep.
“…Mm?” Her lashes fluttered; she met his gaze, dazed and soft.
The faint lamplight left only the distance of a breath between them.
“Happy wedding night,” he murmured, eyes glinting with quiet mischief.
She wound her arms around him as the night claimed them—his strength meeting her stubborn heart in equal measure.
The moment shattered into light; sensation raced through her until breath turned to a cry and the world fell utterly still.
Spent, she lay motionless, listening to the drum of her own pulse.
Sleep crept in, gentle and merciless.
When he emerged, a towel slung low around his hips, she was already curled in sleep—soft, unguarded. A rare smile flickered across his face.
He slid in beside her, gathered her against him, and let sleep take them both.
⸻
The next morning.
Luna floated between dream and waking until a sudden weight on her chest stole her breath.
She blinked awake to find an arm sprawled across her.
Temper flaring, she shoved it away. “Off, you brute.”
The arm promptly returned—as stubborn as its owner.
Irritation winning over reason, she sank her teeth into his forearm.
“Ow—” Theodore jerked upright, glaring.
Her laughter slipped out before she could stop it.
“Are you a puppy?” he muttered. “Should I fetch you a bone next time?”
She snorted. Silence won.
“Go ahead, bite my—” He stopped himself, smirking like a man who’d already said too much.
Luna arched a brow. Did he actually want that? The man was impossible.
“Where?” Her tone was pure challenge.
In answer, he tore the blanket aside and laughed. “Come on then—prove it.”
She yelped, clutching the sheet to her chest, scandalised and half-laughing.
A sharp knock spared them both.
“Mr Theodore,” came the butler’s voice, muffled through the door. “Mr John asks that you and Mrs Theodore come downstairs—Mr Noah has returned.”
“Understood,” Theodore called back, the words clipped. Footsteps retreated down the hall.
Luna blinked. Noah? The runaway groom? How in the world—
Theodore looked at her; she shot the glare straight back. “What?” she snapped.
He only shrugged and vanished into the closet, unapologetically bare.
She rolled her eyes so hard it hurt. Exhibitionist.
She tottered toward the bathroom on unsteady legs—last night’s “effort” having left its mark.
Washed and barely composed, she followed him downstairs to face whatever chaos Noah’s return would bring.
When Luna stepped out of the elevator, she saw that the living-room sofa was crowded with the entire Davis family.
And beside Noah sat Emma Wilson — his secretary.
Luna froze. What is she doing here?
As she drew nearer, she noticed Noah and Emma’s hands intertwined—tightly, defiantly.
It clicked at once.
So Noah ran away because of her?
She stared at the pair, astonishment flickering across her face. When did they become a couple behind everyone’s back?
A tense silence filled the air, weighted with unspoken judgment.
When Emma’s eyes met Luna’s for a heartbeat, she dropped her gaze in shame.
Noah looked toward Luna and Theodore, emotion shifting uneasily behind his eyes.
He had never truly left City A; instead, after Theodore married Luna, he’d had the audacity to bring Emma back.
“Theodore, Luna, sit down,” John said.
“Grandfather…” Noah began, meeting John’s gaze. “I love Emma. I want to marry her. Please—”
“Noah!” Ava cut him off, fury colouring her face. “Have you lost your mind? Luna is your fiancée — that was settled long ago! How dare you bring this woman home?”
Emma flinched, panic rising; her eyes shimmered with tears.
“Mom…” Noah’s voice wavered. “Emma’s a good girl. She’s the one I love.” He squeezed Emma’s hand.
Ava stamped her foot, voice rising. “What nonsense! Look at her — plain background, plain face, nothing worthy of you! The woman fit for you is Luna!”
“Yes.” Noah met his mother’s glare head-on, voice steady. “Emma may not have rank or looks, but she has a kind heart. To me, that makes her the most beautiful woman alive.”
“You bastard!” Ava snapped.
