Chapter 1023: Plenty of time before bed
Chapter 1023: Plenty of time before bed
The spray hit the glass door in a syncopated rhythm, a percussion section warming up while the bathroom filled with steam.
Yue Ling stepped in first, letting the heat trace a path down her spine, chasing away the chill of the office and the fluorescent-lit commute.
She exhaled, long and slow, rolling her shoulders as the water plastered her dark hair to her neck.
Lu Tian leaned against the sink, arms crossed, watching her through the glass. He always did this—waited, let her settle, let the anticipation build.
It was a small act of restraint that he wielded like a weapon.
"You going to stand there all night, or are you going to join me?"
She called over her shoulder.
He didn’t answer.
Instead, she heard the soft click of the bathroom door locking.
Footsteps, the whisper of fabric.
Then the shower door slid open, and the heat shifted, doubled, became charged with the scent of him—cedar soap and something darker, hungrier.
His body pressed against her back, chest to her shoulder blades, and she felt him already half-hard.
But he made no move to touch her.
Not yet.
He stood there, letting the water cascade over both of them, his breath warm at the curve of her ear.
"You’re becoming more demanding," he said, voice low, almost teasing. "I like it."
Yue Ling blushed without responding, not trusting her voice.
She was only asking him, not expecting it to sound like a command.
"Let me take care of you."
He suddenly whispered next to her ear, making her face more redder than it already was.
She expected his hands. Instead, he reached past her for the body wash, squeezing a generous dollop into his palms. The scent of sandalwood bloomed in the steam. Then his hands found her shoulders.
It was innocent, almost, the way he worked the soap into her skin—but only almost.
His thumbs traced the muscles along her spine, following the rivers of hot water. He mapped the ridges and valleys of her body with a deliberate, unhurried touch.
He washed her arms, lifting each one, lathering from wrist to shoulder, his fingers trailing along the sensitive hollow of her elbow until goosebumps rose despite the heat.
Her breathing shallowed. The shower floor might as well have been a tightrope.
She couldn’t help but close her eyes and feel her body relax from his touch.
"Feel good?" he asked, the question itself a kind of tease.
"Yes."
His hands moved to her waist, slick with soap, sliding over her hips, down the outside of her thighs.
He knelt, and the water shifted, swirling around his body. He lifted her foot, massaging the arch, working the soap between her toes.
She braced herself against the tile, pulse a low drum in her ears.
He worked the other foot, then his hands began the slow ascent—calves, the sensitive backs of her knees, her thighs. He paused there, thumbs tracing circles just below the curve of her ass.
She needed him. But he didn’t move.
She pushed back against him, seeking friction, but he caught her hips with a soft laugh.
"Patience," he said against the small of her back.
The word sent a ripple of frustration and heat straight to her core. She ground her teeth.
"Tian."
"Hmm?"
He stood, finally, his body sliding against hers, and she felt the full length of him.
Harder now, pressing against her as if testing her resolve.
His hands, still slick with soap, spread across her stomach, moving upward.
He cupped her breasts, thumbs skimming her nipples with devastating laziness.
She arched into his touch, a low moan slipping free.
"You’re so responsive tonight," he murmured, teeth grazing her ear.
He rolled one nipple between his fingers, then the other, and she felt the heat between her legs throb in answer.
"Do you want more?"
"Yes."
The word was barely a whisper.
"Tell me."
"I want you to touch me."
"I am touching you."
His hands were on her ribs, tracing the curve of her waist, drawing lower, skirting the edge of her hip bones before gliding back up.
"Be specific."
She turned her head, eyes meeting his.
The water dripped from his dark hair, tracing the cut of his jaw.
He looked like sin and salvation all at once, and he knew it.
"I want to feel you."
Seeing her shy expression, he smiled, slow and devastating.
"Since you asked so nicely."
His hand slid lower, fingers gliding through the short curls, and finally—finally—he touched her.
A single finger traced the seam of her, finding her wet with more than just shower water.
He circled her clit in a slow figure-eight, and she gasped, hips rocking involuntarily.
"Already so ready," he whispered, and dipped one finger inside her.
She bit her lip, head falling back against his shoulder.
But one finger wasn’t enough, and he knew it. He added a second, pushing deep, curling them in a way that made her see stars behind her closed eyes.
The steam, the heat, the rhythm of his hand—it built fast, a coil tightening low in her belly.
"Tian, oh god..."
He pressed his thumb to her clit, working her from both inside and out, and she was right there, right at the edge, the world narrowing to the pulse of his fingers, the pressure, the slick heat—
And then he pulled away.
"No," she moaned, bereft.
He made a low sound of satisfaction, stepping back.
She tried to follow, but he caught her wrists in one hand, spinning her to face the wall.
The porcelain was cool and unyielding against her flushed skin. He pinned her hands above her head, his body a wall of heat at her back.
"Did you think I’d let you finish that easily?" he asked.
She whimpered.
His free hand slid around her hip, and she felt the blunt head of his hardness pressing against her entrance.
She was ready for him.
But he didn’t thrust.
He teased, sliding through her folds, coating himself in her arousal.
Each pass made her squirm, made her push back, but he held her steady.
"Please," she whispered.
He pushed inside—just an inch—and stopped.
"Please what?"
"Please, I need to feel you," she said. "God, Tian, just do it."
He rewarded her with another inch. Then another. The stretch was exquisite, a slow burn that made her want to slam her hips back and take all of him at once.
But he had her pinned, and he set the pace. Which was to say: no pace at all.
He withdrew, then pushed back in, slower than before.
Each thrust was a deliberate, punishing act of patience.
He filled her completely, then left her empty, over and over, until she was shaking, babbling, reduced to a tangle of need.
"Move faster," she pleaded.
"No."
He pulled out almost entirely, held for a heartbeat, then drove home in one devastating stroke.
She cried out, the sound swallowed by the water and the glass and the steam. Her fingers curled against the tile where his hand still held them, keeping her exactly where he wanted her.
His lips found her shoulder, kissing a line to the curve of her neck. Then, without warning, he bit down.
She gasped, pain and pleasure blurring into one electric jolt. He soothed the spot with his tongue, laving the mark he’d left behind.
"Mine," he said against her skin.
Before she could respond, he thrust again—harder now, but still slow, still guided by that infuriating control.
He knew exactly what she needed, and he denied her with every stroke.
The pressure built, climbed, hovered at the brink, and each time he varied his rhythm just enough to keep her from toppling over.
"You’re going to come when I let you," he said.
"I can’t—Tian, please, I can’t hold it."
"Yes, you can."
His hand left her wrists, sliding down to circle her clit.
The touch was light, barely there, but it sent her spiraling toward the edge with terrifying speed.
"Not yet."
Her body was on fire, every nerve ending raw and electric.
The water beat down on her skin, hot and relentless, and his cock filled her again and again, and his fingers worked her clit in maddening circles, and still he held her back.
"I want to hear you say it," he said.
"What?" She could barely form the word.
"Tell me you’re mine."
She didn’t hesitate.
"I’m yours. Tian, I’m yours."
His rhythm faltered for the first time, a crack in the armor of his control.
He pulled her upright, one arm banding across her chest, the other still between her legs. The new angle sent him deeper, and she felt him everywhere, filling every empty space.
"Then come for me," he said.
He thrust hard and sharp, and his fingers pressed down on her clit, and the world shattered.
Her climax ripped through her, stealing her breath, arching her spine, pulling a cry from someplace deep, deep inside.
He kept moving, drawing out every last wave, until her legs gave out and she sagged against the tile.
But he wasn’t finished.
He turned her around, lifting her until her back hit the wall and her legs wrapped around his waist.
His eyes found hers in the steam, dark and wild, and he entered her again, using her just enough to chase his own release.
She held on, nails scoring his shoulders, watching his face as the intensity built and built behind his eyes.
He came with a groan, hips jerking, pressing his forehead to hers as the heat surged.
She felt every pulse, every shudder, and it was enough to push her over once more, softer this time, a gentle wave that left them both breathless.
The water had begun to cool by the time he set her down.
Neither of them spoke.
He reached for the soap again, lathering his hands, and this time, when he washed her, there was only tenderness. He kissed the faint red mark on her shoulder, then the one blooming on her inner thigh—a bite she hadn’t even felt, delivered in the heat of the moment, now soothed by his tongue and the warm water.
"Ready for bed?" he asked.
She nodded, too spent for words.
He shut off the water and reached for a towel. Wrapping it around her like a promise, he pulled her close, his lips grazing her temple.
"That was—" she started.
He kissed the word away.
"Don’t tempt me, my love."
There was something new in his voice, something that made her stomach tighten with anticipation.
He opened the bathroom door, letting the steam pour out into the cool bedroom beyond.
"We still have plenty of time before bed."
"We have work tomorrow."
She refuted but he only smiled before sweeping her off her feet.
"That’s never stopped me before."
He glanced down at her with a knowing smile.
"But I’ll let you rest tonight."
Yue Ling blinked in disbelief. Of course he could say that so shamelessly—he had gotten exactly what he wanted from her only moments ago.
The bedroom was warm when Lu Tian carried Yue Ling inside.
Steam still clung faintly to their skin from the shower, her damp hair spilling over his arm.
"I can walk, you know."
"I know."
"Then why are you still carrying me?"
Lu Tian looked down at her.
"Because I want to."
The simple answer silenced her.
He lowered her onto the edge of the bed but remained between her knees.
Yue Ling reached up to brush a droplet of water from his face, only for him to catch her wrist and press a kiss into her palm.
Her heart fluttered.
"Tian..."
"What?"
"Nothing."
His gaze darkened with warmth.
"Then why did you say my name?"
"Am I not allowed to?"
"You are." He leaned closer. "I like hearing it."
His lips found hers.
The kiss was slow and lingering, without the urgency from earlier.
Yue Ling wrapped her arms around his neck as his hand settled around her waist, drawing her closer.
When they parted, Lu Tian reached for a towel and began gently drying her damp hair.
Yue Ling blinked.
"What are you doing?"
"Drying your hair."
"I can do it."
"I know."
She smiled.
"You’re spoiling me."
"Good."
Her expression softened.
For a man who could be frighteningly indifferent toward everyone else, his hands were always gentle with her.
When he finished, Yue Ling pulled him closer and kissed him first.
Lu Tian immediately responded. He had every intention of letting her rest, but the moment her lips touched his, that plan had gone straight out the window.
The teasing between them gradually disappeared as they sank onto the bed, their kisses growing deeper and their touches more intimate.
For once, Yue Ling allowed everything else to disappear.
Her grandfather’s health.
Ji Corps.
Fate.
The wedding preparations.
Tomorrow could wait.
Tonight, she only wanted him.
Much later, the room had grown quiet.
Yue Ling lay curled against Lu Tian’s chest beneath the covers, his arm securely around her waist.
"Tian?"
"Mm."
"Our wedding."
His fingers moved lazily through her hair.
"What about it?"
"I want Yeye to be happy that day. I don’t want everyone looking at him and wondering if it’ll be the last important day he sees."
"Then they won’t."
She lifted her head.
"You can’t control what people think."
"No." His thumb brushed her cheek. "But we can control who is there."
Yue Ling understood.
Small. Private. Family.
A celebration rather than an early farewell.
She relaxed against him again.
"You’re right."
"I usually am."
She pinched his side.
Lu Tian caught her hand and brought it to his lips, kissing her ring finger.
"Soon."
Yue Ling looked up.
"Our wedding?"
He nodded.
"Soon."
A warm smile touched her lips.
"Soon," she whispered.
Lu Tian kissed her forehead and pulled her closer.
And for the rest of the night, Yue Ling allowed herself to forget everything waiting beyond their bedroom.
Tonight, she was simply his soon-to-be-wife.
And he was simply her soon-to-be-husband.