Reborn: The Duke's Obsession
Chapter 101 - Hundred And One

Chapter 101: Chapter Hundred And One

She broke the kiss, pulling back as if she had been burned. The single, spontaneous act of affection had overwhelmed her, and her defenses came crashing back into place. Eric touched his own lips, his expression a mixture of surprise, happiness and a deep, aching tenderness.

"Delia," he said, her name a soft, questioning sound in the quiet, rain-swept room.

She stood up abruptly from the bed, needing to put space between them, needing to escape the raw emotion that was threatening to drown her. She wanted to leave, to retreat to the cold, safe logic of her own thoughts, but he was faster. He caught her hand and gently but firmly cornered her, his body blocking her path, her back pressed against the cool, solid wall.

"I can’t return your feelings, Eric," Delia whispered, her voice trembling, her gaze fixed on the floor.

"I’m afraid I will hurt you so bad when this last petals fall. I don’t want to hurt you." She thought to herself.

"But I can return yours," Eric murmured, stepping closer, his presence warm and all-encompassing. "The ones you are too afraid to feel."

"It’s not the same," she choked out, a single, hot tear escaping her eye. She finally looked up at him, her own eyes a reflection of a lifetime of pain. "No one can love me without eventually hurting me. It’s impossible."

"Then teach me," he said, his voice a low, earnest plea, his breath warm on her cheek. "Teach me how to love you the way you deserve to be loved. Show me the wounds, and I will learn how not to touch them. I promise you, Delia, I am a very quick study."

When she stayed silent, lost in the sincerity of his words, he sighed, a soft, contented sound. A gentle smile played on his lips. "It’s alright," he said. "You don’t have to teach me. You don’t have to do anything."

He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to an intimate whisper that vibrated through her very soul. "Just... use me, Delia. For anything you need. If you want money for your revenge, you can ask the treasury for the keys to my entire vault. Take as much as you need. If you want power, use my name as your own. It is already yours. And if you want security, I’m ready to protect you even at the verge of death. I will protect you with my last breath," he paused, his gaze dropping to her lips, "and if you want love or lust, then please, use my body."

His chest rose and fell with hers, their bodies so close they seemed to be breathing the same air. "As long as it is you who is asking," he finished, his voice filled with emotion, "as long as it’s from you, I am happy to give you anything."

His words, so full of a selfless, unconditional devotion, were the final blow to her carefully constructed walls. They crumbled, turning to dust, leaving her raw and exposed. Tears began to stream down her face, tears not of sadness, but of a profound, overwhelming gratitude. She slowly raised her hands and caressed his cheeks, her touch hesitant and full of wonder.

"My head," she whispered, her voice broken, "is so complicated and so full of thoughts right now. I don’t want to think about anything anymore. I am so tired of thinking, Eric. Can you help me with that? Can you please just help me stop thinking?"

He looked at her, at the desperate, vulnerable plea in her eyes, and his own heart ached with love for her. "What do you want me to do?" he asked softly.

Her hands fell from his face to her sides. He took one of them, turned it over, and pressed a soft, lingering kiss into her palm. He then placed her hand back on his cheek, holding it there, a silent promise to accept whatever comfort she was willing to give. He looked at her, and then he looked at her again, as if he were trying to memorize every detail of her beautiful, tear-streaked face.

He put his own hands on her cheeks, his thumbs gently cleaning away her tears. He pushed the stray, damp strands of her hair away from her face, and then, with a tenderness that made her heart ache, he leaned in and they kissed again.

This kiss was different. It was not a surprise, not a desperate act. It was a conscious decision, a mutual surrender. It was slow and deep, a conversation without words, a promise of comfort and a whisper of passion.

They moved, their lips still locked, a clumsy, desperate step towards the bed. A small lamp on a side table was knocked to the floor with a muffled thud, its light extinguished. A book slid from the nightstand and landed with a soft flutter of pages. A vase fell to the floor breaking into a million pieces. They didn’t notice. Their entire world had shrunk to the space between them, to the touch of their lips, the feel of their bodies pressed together.

They got to the bed, stumbling onto the soft mattress. He was on top of her, his weight a comforting presence, as they continued to kiss, slowly and gently, exploring and learning. His hands moved from her face to the back of her neck, his fingers tangling in her soft, damp curls. He then slid the thin silk straps of her nightgown off her shoulders, his touch sending a shiver of pure pleasure through her entire body.

He broke the kiss, his forehead resting against hers, his breathing as ragged as her own. "Are you really sure about this, Delia?" he asked, his voice a hoarse whisper in the dim, candlelit room. He was giving her one last chance to run, one last chance to say no.

She looked up at him, into his dark, passionate eyes, and saw her future. She saw a life not of fear, but of love. Not of loneliness, but of partnership. She nodded her head, a single, definite movement. And then, in a final, complete act of surrender and trust, she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer.