69novels Chapter 363 --363
Chapter 363 --363
Yes, the old monster had been wealthy, but Samuel had essentially burned down his entire established future just to fund her revenge and her shopping habits. Deciding to finally stop bleeding his finances dry, she resolved to stay in bed and rest.
She slept for hours. Deep, heavy, luxurious sleep.
Or, at least, it *would* have been uninterrupted if her husband wasn’t a completely paranoid hover-hound. Samuel, apparently worried sick that she was slipping into a dehydrated coma, refused to let her rest in total peace. Every four hours—and sometimes, when his anxiety spiked, every hour or two—the door would click open. He would gently but persistently wake her up, his dark eyes scanning her flushed face for signs of illness. "Drink," he would command softly, pressing a cup of cold water to her lips so she wouldn’t dehydrate in the sweltering summer heat. Then, he would practically force-feed her a few bites of soft pastries or fruit before finally letting her fall back against the pillows.
But Heena couldn’t even find it in herself to be truly annoyed. Because whenever she drifted back to sleep, she felt the heavy, soothing pressure of Samuel’s hands. He sat at the edge of the bed for hours, meticulously massaging her aching calves and tired feet, working out the deep knots from days of walking the capital’s unforgiving cobblestone streets. When her legs were relaxed, he would move up, his long, strong fingers gently rubbing her temples and scalp to soothe away her lingering exhaustion.
She was receiving the absolute, undeniable treatment of an Empress. At one point, she blearily opened one eye as his thumbs kneaded a particularly sore muscle in her shoulder. She wasn’t embarrassed. She wasn’t shy about being utterly pampered by the terrifying scholar.
"Continue," Heena mumbled unapologetically, closing her eyes again and melting into the mattress. Samuel just let out a low, fond chuckle in the dim room, his hands never stopping their soothing rhythm.
Suddenly, Heena snapped her eyes wide open.
The lingering haze of her deep sleep vanished in a fraction of a second, replaced by a sudden surge of pure, calculated mischief. Normally, she was far too busy plotting the downfall of a noble house, or simply too inherently lazy to exert any unnecessary physical energy. But right now, she had a rare pocket of free time, an incredibly soft mattress, and a husband who had spent the last several hours acting like a remarkably attentive, entirely vulnerable saint.
How could she possibly let him go so easily?
Before Samuel could even register the sudden stillness in her muscles, Heena’s hand shot upward. Her fingers securely tangled into the sturdy fabric of his collar. With a sudden, deceptively powerful yank born of pure leverage, she threw him backward onto the bed.
The mattress groaned under the sudden shift in weight. Samuel’s breath caught in his throat as Heena fluidly scrambled over him, reversing their positions entirely and pushing him flat against the sheets.
She looked down at him, her dark hair tumbling over her shoulders to frame her face in the dim light. A wicked, entirely unapologetic smile danced on her lips. She reached down, her fingers firmly wrapping around his jawline to lift his chin, holding his gaze hostage before she leaned down and planted a heavy, lingering kiss straight onto his mouth. It tasted faintly of the sweet fruit he had forced her to eat earlier.
When she finally pulled back, just an inch away from his face, her voice was still laced with a thick, velvety post-sleep drowsiness.
"My lord..." Heena murmured, her eyes half-lidded but gleaming with a sharp, dangerous amusement. "You really like my legs, huh? You’ve been kneeling there for hours."
Hearing that, the initial flash of surprise on Samuel’s handsome face melted into a slow, dangerously charming smile. He lay perfectly still beneath her, his broad shoulders relaxed against the pillows, entirely content to let her play the captor. His dark eyes darkened further, locked completely onto her flushed face.
"It’s not just your legs, my lady," Samuel replied, his deep voice carrying a low, gravelly vibration that sent a faint thrill down her spine.
He tilted his head upward, closing the small distance between them to claim another kiss, his lips parting slightly in an invitation to take control of the momentum. But Heena wasn’t about to give up her upper hand.
Before their lips could touch again, she flattened her palm against the center of his chest and directly shoved him back down. The physical rejection was firm, her gaze locked onto his with an arched, mocking eyebrow.
"Really?" Heena said, a challenging, dominant glint sparking in her sleepy eyes. "Then let’s see just how much you mean that."
With that, she drove her knees into the mattress on either side of his hips, pinning him down completely and trapping his lower body beneath her weight. She grabbed his wrists, pinning his hands flat against the sheets beside his head. Samuel let out a low, breathless chuckle, his chest rising and falling heavily beneath her palms as he looked up at his fierce, entirely unhinged wife, silently daring her to show him exactly what she planned to do next.
The quiet within the inn room grew heavy, the sweltering capital heat sealing them into a world that felt entirely removed from the plotting, the shadows, and the impending ruin of the Marquis’s household.
Samuel’s breath hitched, the low chuckle dying in his throat as the reality of her weight settling firmly over his hips sank in. The playful, dominant smirk on Heena’s face was perfectly silhouetted by the pale moonlight filtering through the window shutters, her dark hair falling forward in tangled silk ribbons that brushed against his jaw, cutting off the rest of the world entirely.
"You are incredibly bold when you are well-rested, wife," Samuel murmured. His voice dropped into a rough, gravelly register that vibrated directly against her palms. He didn’t test the grip she held on his wrists, but the hard muscles of his forearms flexed beneath her fingers—a quiet, deliberate reminder of the immense physical strength he was willingly holding back just to let her play her game.
"I have a few hours to kill before the world wakes up," Heena replied smoothly, her half-lidded eyes gleaming with a dangerous, intoxicating warmth. She leaned down further, her lips tracing a slow, agonizing path across his jawline until her warm breath brushed directly against his ear. "And you have been working so hard to keep me comfortable all day, husband. It is only fair that I return the favor."
She released his wrists, but before he could take advantage of the freedom, her fingers traced a deliberate, burning line down the center of his throat, wrapping around the top ties of his scholar’s robe. With a sharp tug, she undid the knots. Her movements were lazy but entirely intentional, parting the fabric and dragging it down to expose the broad, scarred line of his shoulders and the hard expanse of his chest.
Samuel let out a low, ragged groan from the back of his throat. The last vestige of his saintly patience shattered into absolute dust. His large hands instantly came up, his long fingers digging into the soft curve of her waist with a sudden, fierce hunger that completely overrode his previous restraint.