A Dangerous Obsession
Chapter 76 - 75

Chapter 76: Chapter 75

The walk left me utterly drained. By the time I collapsed onto my bed, my chest was heaving as I struggled to catch my breath. Every muscle in my body ached, screaming in protest at the unaccustomed exertion. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to cry from frustration or laugh at the absurdity of being reduced to this—barely able to walk without feeling like I had just fought a war.

Sabastine had left a pitcher of water on the small table by the bed, and I reached for it with trembling hands. The cool glass of the cup pressed against my fingers as I poured the water, watching the liquid slosh gently before settling. Lifting it to my lips, I took a slow sip, the icy sensation soothing my parched throat. Another sip followed, then another, the tension in my body gradually unwinding with each cool drop.

When I finally lowered the cup, my eyes drifted toward His Majesty. He was standing near the foot of the bed, his arms folded casually, though his gaze was anything but casual. I froze as I noticed where his attention had settled—my lips.

Heat surged to my cheeks, spreading down my neck as his eyes lingered there, dark and unreadable. I quickly averted my gaze, pretending I hadn’t noticed. The air between us felt heavier, charged with something unspoken and electric. My heart beat faster—not from exhaustion this time, but from something far more unnerving.

He moved then, slow and deliberate, closing the distance between us. Each step he took seemed louder than it should have been, echoing in the quiet room. My pulse quickened with every inch he drew closer until he stood right before me.

His hand lifted, fingers brushing against my cheek before trailing downward. My breath hitched as his thumb grazed my lips, the touch featherlight yet commanding all of my attention. I couldn’t look away, my eyes glued to his as if they were caught in some invisible snare.

His thumb pressed against the curve of my bottom lip, gently tugging it down, and before I could process what was happening, he slid it into my mouth. My lips parted instinctively, and the warmth of his skin against my tongue sent a shiver racing down my spine.

He didn’t break eye contact—not for a second. His gaze was intense, molten, as though he was studying every flicker of emotion on my face. I hated how easily I was caught in his spell, how my mind went blank under the weight of his stare. My fingers clutched the sheets beneath me, the only anchor in a moment that felt too surreal, too intimate.

I didn’t dare move, barely dared to breathe, as his thumb lingered there, brushing lightly against my tongue. My heart thundered in my chest, each beat echoing louder than the last. The heat that had begun in my cheeks now burned through my entire body, leaving me flushed and flustered.

Finally, he pulled his thumb from my lips, the absence of his touch leaving me unbalanced, as though I had been standing on the edge of a cliff. He didn’t pull away completely, though. His hand shifted, his thumb now resting beneath my chin as he tilted my face upward.

Our eyes met again, and for a moment, the world seemed to stop. The space between us disappeared as he leaned in slightly, his face impossibly close to mine. His gaze flickered briefly to my lips, and I couldn’t stop myself from wondering—hoping—if he was going to kiss me.

But he didn’t.

Instead, his lips curled into a faint, almost mocking smile. "Rest, darling," he murmured, his voice soft yet commanding. "You’ve done well."

With that, he stepped back, the warmth of his presence retreating as quickly as it had come. My breath left me in a shaky exhale, and I realized only then how tightly I haad been gripping the sheets.

He turned and walked toward the door, his movements as fluid and confident as ever. I watched him leave, the echo of his footsteps ringing in my ears long after he was gone. The room felt colder in his absence, and I hated it. I hated the way my body still felt the ghost of his touch, the way my lips tingled as if they were waiting for something that hadn’t happened.

Most of all, I hated myself for wanting it. For wanting him to kiss me.

I let out a shaky breath, leaning back against the headboard as I tried to calm the storm raging inside me. My hand lifted to my lips, tracing the spot where his thumb had lingered, and I closed my eyes.

It was madness—this pull I felt toward him. It defied logic, defied reason, and yet I couldn’t deny it. No matter how much I wanted to.

Rest, he had said. But rest was the last thing I could manage with the memory of his touch still burning on my skin.

"Rest," he had said. But rest was impossible with the memory of his touch still burning on my skin, searing into my very soul.

A knock on the door pulled me from my thought. I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. "Come in," I called out.

The door creaked open, and a maid stepped inside, holding a book. She looked like she was suppressing a smile as she handed it to me.

"The book you requested, My lady," she said, her voice gentle but with a hint of amusement.

"Thank you," I replied, attempting a smile as I took the book.

I cleared my throat, trying to regain some composure. "Could you please prepare a bath for me?" I asked.

"Of course, My lady," the maid said with a slight nod. She turned to leave, and I could hear the faint echo of her footsteps as she made her way to the bathroom.

I clutched the book to my chest, my thoughts racing. Perhaps a bath would help wash away the lingering sensation of his touch.

I pray it does.