Roman and Julienne's heart desire
Chapter 66: How much love cost

Chapter 66: How much love cost

In the soft glow of morning, Rachel stirred in her sleep, her lashes fluttering before her eyes slowly opened.

She lay still, unmoving, as the memories of last night came flooding back like a swift, overwhelming stream.

Her breath caught in her throat as fragments of it played vividly in her mind—the warmth, the closeness, the intensity.

Last night had been unexpected.

Just as Logan had pulled her into a hug, she’d turned abruptly, startled to see him already in the shower.

She should’ve expected it—she had called his name after all—but seeing him like that still took her by surprise.

"Logan, what are you doing?" she stuttered, her voice unsteady, caught between confusion and something else—something that made her skin tingle.

"I’m here for you," he had replied, his voice deep, low, and husky, vibrating like a distant drumbeat in her ears and sending an involuntary shiver through her.

"Don’t you want it?" he had asked, his warm breath brushing against the sensitive skin of her neck, making her flinch and stiffen all at once.

Her heart began to thump erratically, echoing loudly in her ears like a warning—or perhaps an invitation.

"What do you mean?" she asked, her throat dry as she gulped, her chest rising and falling rapidly with every breath she struggled to take.

"I want you, Rachel," Logan had said, and then—so gently, so deliberately—he had parted his lips and let his teeth graze her earlobe, slowly, sensually.

"Ahh, Logan," Rachel gasped in a soft moan, her body reacting before her mind could catch up.

"C’mon, Rachel," he murmured, and that was all it took.

That single sentence was all she needed to let herself go—to surrender to him completely.

Love really is something, she thought now as she lay in bed, wrapped in the remnants of that night. Her heart still fluttered with the echo of it all.

She turned her head slowly to the side, her fingers brushing over the cool, wrinkled sheet.

The space around her smelled faintly of him—warm skin, water, and a hint of the woody cologne he wore.

She sighed, her chest rising with contentment and a strange ache she couldn’t quite name.

The very bed where she had given herself to Logan—the man she loved—now cradled her in its silence.

Her face softened with something between a smile and disbelief.

She had allowed him to go down there, to explore every part of her, and to penetrate the deepest parts of her body and heart alike.

Slowly, she pushed herself upright, the sheet slipping down from her bare shoulders.

She moved to settle her feet on the ground when suddenly—

"Ouch," she winced, gasping slightly.

A sharp pain jolted through her from between her thighs, and she sucked in a deep breath, exhaling slowly through her mouth.

Her brows furrowed as she bent forward a little, trying to ease the discomfort.

The ache was sharp, tender, and it made her body remember everything even more vividly.

Just then, a voice spoke behind her—deep, calm, and unexpectedly close.

"Are you alright?"

Rachel jumped a little in surprise, her heart giving a small leap.

"You’re awake?" she asked, glancing back at Logan. His dark eyes met hers, still hazy with sleep, but full of quiet alertness.

"Yes," he said, propping himself up on one arm. "Your voice just woke me."

She gave a slow nod and offered a soft smile.

"Good morning," he added, his voice gentler now.

Rachel’s smile deepened, this time from the very bottom of her heart—a smile born not just from affection but from contentment.

For a long time, she had held back, unsure of what she truly wanted or needed. But this morning, everything was clearer.

She had slept with the man she loved. Not out of pressure, not out of confusion—but out of love. And that love wrapped around her like a quiet, invisible blanket.

"Good morning," she whispered back, her voice thick with emotion.

Carefully, she shifted closer to him. Despite the tenderness in her body, she wrapped her arms around him, resting her head lightly against his chest.

His arms came around her without hesitation, and for a while, they just stayed like that—holding each other in the silence, listening to each other’s heartbeats.

No words were needed. _{free\we\bnov(e)(l).com}

This was love. Raw, imperfect, realand entirely theirs.

She had slept with the man she loved—and in that moment, Rachel felt a kind of happiness that swelled from the very bottom of her heart.

It was raw, pure, and overwhelming.

Slowly and carefully, she moved closer to Logan, wrapping her arms around him.

Her body ached slightly from the night before, but her heart was full.

Logan raised a brow, slightly surprised by the sudden hug, but his expression softened quickly into a smile.

He let her rest gently against him, his arms instinctively wrapping around her waist.

"Are you alright?" he asked, his voice soft and slightly rough from sleep.

Rachel nodded, pouting as she pulled back a little to look at his face.

Her eyes sparkled, and a tender smile curved her lips.

"I’m alright. You can’t believe how happy I am," she said, her voice light with emotion.

Logan raised a brow at her words, but kept the smile on his face.

You’re seriously stupid, he thought to himself, his mind cold and sharp beneath the warmth of his expression.

Giving yourself to me and saying you’re happy over what you’ve done? Nice.

But on the surface, all Rachel could see was the gentle curve of his smile, the affection in his eyes.

"I’m also happy," Logan said, his voice smooth and alive, the perfect lie clothed in warmth.

Rachel giggled softly, then leaned in again to hug him more tightly.

Her cheek pressed against his chest, and she listened to his heartbeat—steady and rhythmic like a lullaby.

"I see you like hugging me," Logan teased. "So let’s stay like this, since you said you’re tired."

And with that, he let himself fall backward into the bed, still holding her tightly in his arms.

"Ouch—be careful," Rachel gasped, her eyes widening slightly at the pain.

She exhaled sharply, the ache between her legs flaring up again.

"I’m sorry," Logan murmured—but the apology wasn’t for the pain she felt now. It was for what he planned to do to her in the future.

This is just the beginning, he thought darkly, his eyes narrowing as a shadow flickered through them.

His expression remained calm, but inside, the storm was slowly building.

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, steadying himself.

In the large bed, filled with the lingering warmth of their bodies, the two lay in silence—Rachel’s eyes closed in contentment, Logan’s eyes open, calculating.

Miles away, in another room filled with moonlight and hushed stillness, Roman lay awake, watching Julia sleep peacefully in his arms.

Last night had been long.

Roman had come back in the middle of the night, weary and emotionally drained, only to find Julie already asleep on the bed.

After dinner, Julie had been too anxious to return to the room.

She had waited in the sitting room for Roman, her thoughts tangled with worry.

The clock ticked by slowly, every minute a weight pressing on her chest.

Clara, who had remained with her, finally spoke gently.

"My dear, go back in and sleep. I’m sure he’s alright, wherever he is," Clara said, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

"But I’m worried... I don’t think I can sleep," Julie replied, her brows furrowed and her voice low with concern.

"Don’t worry, dear. I’ll stay here. When he comes back, I’ll tell him you were waiting for him."

Reluctantly, Julie had stood up, her steps slow and heavy, and walked back to the room.

Her face wore a trace of sadness, and the weight in her chest hadn’t lifted.

She had sat on the edge of the bed for a while, her phone resting on her lap, as if she were expecting a call that never came.

Her head leaned back against the headboard, her expression distant and lost.

When Roman had finally opened the door, he paused for a second, then smiled.

Just as he had suspected, she had waited for him.

"She must be asleep," he whispered after a moment, noting how she didn’t stir at the sound of the door.

Had she been awake, she would have surely turned toward him.

He closed the door quietly, careful not to wake her.

Walking over to the bed, he stood there for a moment, taking in the sight of her.

She looked so fragile in her sleep—her hands curled into soft fists, her chest rising and falling steadily, her long lashes casting shadows on her cheeks.

The faintest hint of sadness still lingered on her features, even in slumber.

Roman bent down gently, sliding his arms beneath her to lift her slightly and adjust her position.

He held her close for a brief moment before laying her down again, careful not to disturb her.

"I’m sorry," he whispered, brushing a strand of hair from her face as he stared at her delicate features. "I’m sorry I made you feel like this."

After taking a warm shower, Roman returned to the bed, slipping under the covers beside her.

He didn’t sleep immediately. Instead, he lay on his side, facing her, watching the slow, even rhythm of her breathing.

Her face, lit faintly by the moonlight seeping through the curtains, seemed to glow with quiet vulnerability.

"It’s all my fault that you’re sad," he said softly, almost to himself. His voice broke in the middle, regret tightening around his throat.

He reached out, not to touch her, but to let his fingers hover just above hers.

There was so much he wanted to say, so many things he wished he could explain, but not now.

Not yet.

Eventually, his eyes grew heavy. His breathing slowed.

And there, with the woman he loved sleeping soundly beside him, Roman finally let himself drift into sleep—his hand resting close to hers, their fingers almost touching.

And though the room was quiet, filled with the hush of early dawn, two hearts beat with secrets—some born of love, others of vengeance.