A Dangerous Obsession
Chapter 89 - 88

Chapter 89: Chapter 88

LAYLA

"Is this necessary, Your Majesty?" I asked, clutching the towel tightly around my body as though it were my last line of defense against the madness unfolding before me.

He was sitting there, in the tub, completely unbothered by the fact that I was standing a few feet away, half-naked, with my mind frantically trying to process the situation. The warm water did little to conceal the chiseled planes of his chest and abs, every ripple of muscle accentuated by the soft glow of candlelight.

Strands of his dark hair clung lazily to his damp skin, making him look less like the intimidating ruler he was and more like something out of a scandalous daydream. He leaned back slightly, his arms resting casually on the edge of the tub, and raised his gaze to meet mine.

"Why should we be having a bath together?" I demanded, my voice higher than I intended. My cheeks burned hotter than the steam rising from the water.

He tilted his head, amusement dancing in his eyes as though he found my outrage utterly adorable. "You wound me, darling. I thought we had gotten rather close." His lips curved into that infuriatingly perfect smirk, one that made my heart stutter and my blush deepen.

"Not close enough to be having a bath together!" I shot back, gripping the towel even tighter as though that would somehow shield me from the absurdity of it all.

He sighed dramatically, as if I’d just dealt him some grave disappointment. "Pity. I was hoping this might help ease your tension."

"Tension?" I echoed incredulously. "This is causing me more tension!"

He chuckled, a low, rich sound that rippled through the air and made my skin tingle. His gaze slid lazily over me, as if he enjoyed watching me squirm under his scrutiny. "You don’t have to be ashamed, you know. We’re both mates."

"We’re NOT!" I hissed, backing up a step even though I knew there was nowhere to go. "And—this—" I stammered, utterly lost for words.

He arched a brow, clearly enjoying my flustered state far too much. "Come now, darling. You can hardly blame me for wanting to share a bath with you after what happened between us."

I could practically feel the heat radiating off my face. Of course, he had to bring that up. As if my mortification wasn’t already at an all-time high.

"I’m leaving," I muttered, turning on my heel and making a beeline for the door.

"Ah, but if you leave, who will help me wash my back?" His voice was light, teasing, but there was an undercurrent of something deeper—something that made me pause mid-step.

I turned back slowly, glaring at him as best I could while battling the conflicting emotions warring inside me. "You’re perfectly capable of washing your own back, Your Majesty."

"Perhaps," he conceded with a lazy shrug. "But it’s far more enjoyable with company."

There it was again—that maddening smirk that made my heart race and my mind scramble for coherent thought. I opened my mouth to argue, but no words came out. What could I even say to that?

He leaned forward slightly, resting his chin on his hand as he watched me with an intensity that made my pulse quicken. "You could join me, you know. I promise, I don’t bite... unless asked."

"You’re insufferable," I huffed, glaring at him with all the indignation I could muster as my blush reached dangerous levels, though it didn’t seem to faze him in the slightest. He just leaned back in the tub, unbothered, his crimson eyes glittering with mischief. Water dripped from the tips of his hair, clinging to the sharp lines of his jaw and neck, and my breath hitched despite my attempt to stay composed.

Without saying a word, he stood. My heart leapt into my throat. The towel around his waist clung low, soaked and heavy, revealing far more of his physique than I was prepared for. Every ridge of his chiseled abs was on display, water trailing down his skin in a way that made me feel like I was intruding on something intimate. I tried not to look, but my gaze betrayed me, flickering over the outline of his groin, before I forced myself to look anywhere else.

"Insufferable, you say?" His voice was low, smooth, each word dripping with amusement. He took a step forward, closing the distance between us. "Yet..." He paused, his fingers lifting my chin gently, tilting my face up to meet his. "I had you dripping on my fingers, darling."

I gasped, my eyes widening at his bold words. Heat rushed to my cheeks, burning hotter than ever. I tried to look away, utterly mortified, but his grip on my chin was firm, keeping my gaze locked with his.

"Let me go," I whispered, though the words lacked any conviction.

His lips curved into a slow, devastating smirk. "But why would I, when I enjoy this view so much?"

Before I could protest, he leaned in, his lips brushing softly against mine. It wasn’t rushed or demanding—it was a slow, deliberate kiss, one that sent a shiver down my spine. The warmth of his hand on my chin, the faint scent of him lingering in the air, the way he moved with such precision—it was overwhelming in every way.

I should have pushed him away. I should have protested. But instead, I found myself leaning into him, my hands gripping the towel around me tighter as if that would somehow anchor me. His other hand settled on my waist, pulling me just a fraction closer, enough that I could feel the heat radiating from his skin despite the coolness of the air.

His lips moved against mine, coaxing, teasing, until I found myself responding. It was like being caught in a storm, every thought and emotion swirling together in a chaotic mess. I wasn’t sure whether I wanted to pull away or let myself fall completely. All I knew was that, in that moment, nothing else mattered except the way he made me feel—like I was the only thing in the world that held his attention.

When he finally pulled back, I was breathless, my heart racing so fast it felt like it might leap out of my chest. He rested his forehead against mine, his eyes half-lidded as he studied me, his smirk softening into something almost... tender.

"You’re impossible," I muttered, trying to regain some semblance of composure. "You can’t just kiss me whenever you want."

"Oh?" His brow arched. "I seem to recall you enjoying it."

"That’s not the point!" I snapped, my cheeks turning into a dangerous shade of red.

He chuckled, the sound low and rich, vibrating through me in a way that made it hard to think straight. "If you insist, darling. But do let me know when you’ve changed your mind."

I scowled at him, but it only seemed to amuse him further. He let his hand fall from my chin, though he didn’t step away. Instead, he stood there, far too close for comfort, watching me with that same smug expression that made me want to both slap and kiss him.

"Are you done tormenting me?" I asked, trying to sound annoyed rather than flustered.

"For now," he said with a grin. "But don’t get too comfortable. I find that tormenting you is quite enjoyable."

"You’re the worst."

"And yet, you’re still here."

I opened my mouth to retort, but nothing came out. Instead, I turned on my heel, marching toward the door with as much dignity as I could muster, which wasn’t much, considering my entire body was still buzzing from the kiss.

Behind me, I heard him chuckle again, and I swore under my breath. He was impossible, insufferable, and entirely too pleased with himself. And the worst part? I don’t mind it at all.