Continues....

He felt a possessive desire every time another man glanced or smiled at her.

He tried to act casual, but he knew he was being unusually protective.

Later that night,

She was in bed. He entered the bedroom, finding her on the bed.

He slowly closed the door behind him, locking it. He approached the bed, his eyes never leaving her.

"You were quite the distraction tonight." He said, his voice husky, "No, I wasn't." He couldn't help but let out a low chuckle.

"You were. Every man in that room was looking at you."

He stepped closer to the bed, his eyes roaming over her body.

"And I didn't like it one bit." She said nothing. he could sense her defiance, her stubbornness.

He sat down on the edge of the bed, reaching over to gently take her chin, making her look at him.

"No smartass comment?" He asked, his voice a mix of amusement and frustration, "I'm tired." He let go of her chin, his hand now gently stroking her cheek.

He could see the exhaustion in her eyes, and his tone softened.

"You're tired." He said, the edge in his voice fading. "Let me sleep," He hesitated for a moment, his hand lingering near her face.

"Fine." He said quietly, pulling back. "Sleep."

He stood up and walked to the other side of the bed, lying down without another word—keeping a careful distance this time. He paused for a moment, torn between his possessive desires and her exhaustion.

He wanted to hold her close, to claim her as his own, but he could see how tired she was.

He could hear her breathing, knowing she was only a few feet away from him.

He felt the urge to wrap his arms around her, to hold her close, but he forced himself to stay where he was.

The next day, she was getting ready in front of the mirror, wearing a green saree.

He woke up early, his eyes opening to the sight of her getting dressed in front of the mirror.

He rolled over and propped himself on an elbow, watching as she tied her saree around herself.

He couldn't help but appreciate the way the green fabric accentuated her curves. He sat up in bed, the bedsheet pooling around his bare chest.

He watched as she finished tying the saree, his eyes roaming over her body.

"You look beautiful." He said, his voice still raspy from sleep. "Hmm",

He could sense the indifference in her response, and he couldn't help but feel a hint of frustration.

"Just 'hmm'? No witty remark or sarcastic comment?" He asked, a hint of annoyance in his voice. "I don't want to argue early in the morning," he said, taking a deep breath, trying to control his frustration.

"Fair enough." He said, his voice slightly strained. He looked at her for a moment longer, his eyes lingering on her figure.

"I have some business to attend to." He said, standing up from the bed. "I'll be going temple," she said. He paused for a moment, his eyes locked on her.

"Alone?" He asked, his voice firm."Yes," He crossed his arms, jaw tightening slightly.

"You're not going alone." He said, more statement than question. "But it's nearby,  so I can take the driver,"

He frowned, not satisfied with her answer.

"Even if it's nearby, you're not going without someone watching over you." He paused for a moment, his tone softening slightly.

"I'll send one of the guards."Ok," He nodded, satisfied with her compliance.

"Good." He said, his voice firm. He turned to leave the room, but paused at the door.

"Don't be long." He added before stepping out.

Later that evening, he returned from work she was taking a nap. He entered the bedroom, finding her sleeping soundly. He took a moment to observe her, admiring her peaceful expression.

He moved quietly, trying not to disturb her as he took a seat on the edge of the bed. He reached out to gently brush a stray strand of hair away from her face. He couldn't help but think how different she looked while sleeping—all the defiance and stubbornness seemingly melted away, replaced by a tranquillity that he barely saw while she was awake. "Ummm, you are back." He broke from his thoughts, looking up to see her eyes fluttering open.

He chuckled softly, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"Yeah, I'm back." He said, his eyes scanning her face. "And you're still in bed."

"Um, I felt tired, so I slept." He watched her stretch slightly, the drowsiness still in her eyes.

"Tired again?" He asked, voice low. "Or just avoiding me?" "You weren't home for me to avoid you, remember," he chucked, conceding that point.

"Fair enough." He said, a small smirk on his lips.

He leaned forward slightly, his eyes locked on hers.

"So, you missed me then?" "No", he rolled his eyes at her denial, a mix of disbelief and amusement in his expression.

"No?" He echoed, his tone slightly mocking. He leaned back, his arms crossing over his chest.

"You're just too stubborn to admit it." "You should get changed. I'll see if the dinner is ready," He paused, his eyes flickering down at himself.

"You're right." He said, realising he was still wearing his work clothes.

He stood up from the edge of the bed, his gaze lingering on her for a moment longer.

"I'll change and be right out." She didn't say anything.

Later that night, they were having their usual intimacy, and surprisingly, she was more cooperative than before. More into it.

He couldn't help but notice the difference in her tonight. She was more responsive, more eager—her breath warm and quick against his skin.

His hands gripped her tighter, moving with a rough passion as she met him with equal fire.

"Someone's enjoying this." He murmured between kisses, voice thick with satisfaction, "Don't be stupid, I'm just being what you wanted me to be as your wife." He pulled back slightly, his breath still uneven.

"Is that what this is?" He said, voice low and edged with something almost like hurt. "Just duty?"

His fingers traced her jaw, gaze boring into hers.

"You felt real tonight. Don't pretend it was just obedience."

"You remember you called me a slut last time?. I'm just proving you wrong."

He froze, the words hitting him like a slap. His jaw tightened, the smirk vanishing from his lips.

"So that's it?" He said quietly, voice rough. "You're giving yourself to me now just to prove a point?"

He searched her eyes, but found no mockery—only fire and defiance.

For the first time, he wasn't sure if he wanted to pull her closer... or let go.

"Yes, maybe. You hurt my pride that day, and I'm showing you today that I'm fulfilling the duty of your wife. Didn't you say it's my wifely duties?"

He felt a wave of irritation wash over him, followed by an unwelcome pang of guilt.

"Duty, huh?" He said tightly, his jaw clenched. His eyes wandered over her face, searching for something—some sign of the defiance that was so familiar to him.

Instead, all he saw was a woman determined to prove something he wasn't sure he wanted to be proven wrong. He let out a low sigh, trying to push the guilt aside.

"You're impossible, you know that?" He said, his tone both irritated and slightly amused.

He leaned in closer, his face nearly touching hers. "You know you don't have to 'prove' anything to me." His voice was lower now, almost a whisper.

"You could just..." He paused. "...give in."

"Why should I give in?"

He could see the challenge in her eyes, and it only made him more defiant—more determined to pull a reaction from her.

"You know why." He murmured, his hands gliding over her hip. He leaned in even closer, so close that her breath was warm on his face.

"I can see the way you respond to me. The way your body reacts when I touch you, when I look at you." He moved his head, grazing his lips against her ear.

"You want this. Admit it."

"No, it's just duties. I'm not a lowly woman, and there's no love on which I can admit I want you; it's all just forced, remember."

He pulled back slightly, his expression darkening at her words.

"Forced?" He repeated, voice low and edged with frustration.

His fingers tightened around her hip for a moment before releasing her.

"Maybe it started that way." He said, his eyes locking onto hers. "But don't lie to me—and don't lie to yourself."

He leaned in again, but slower this time—deliberate—until his breath ghosted over her lips.

"If it were just duty... You wouldn't tremble when I kiss you."

A pause. His thumb brushed the edge of her jaw.

"You may hate me all you want," he whispered, "but your body doesn't hate me."

"I would have trembled even if someone else kissed"

He felt a surge of possessive anger at her words. "Liar." He murmured, his voice rough.

He moved his hand up to her throat, his thumb tracing the underside of her chin.

"You think any man could make you tremble like this?" He said, his fingers applying slight pressure—just enough to tilt her chin up.

"You think any man would cause your body to respond like it does to me?" He asked, his tone edged with something almost like bitterness.

"Yes, who knows if I would have married someone else?"

He let out a sharp, humourless laugh. "Someone else?" He said, his voice low and dangerous.

His grip on her chin tightened slightly—just enough to remind her who held her now.

"You wouldn't be trembling for them." He growled. "You'd be cold. Lifeless."

He leaned in until his lips brushed the shell of her ear, voice a dark whisper.

"Because no one knows how to break you open like I do."

"You can humour yourself all you want. For me, this marriage and our intercourse are just a duty and responsibility to me."

He pulled back slowly, studying her face. Her words were sharp—cold—but he could still see the flush on her skin, the slight tremor in her breath.

Duty. Responsibility.Fine. Let her keep telling herself that. A slow, knowing smirk tugged at his lips.

"Keep saying it," he murmured, "maybe you'll believe it one day." He traced a finger down her arm, light as a whisper.

"But until then... your body will keep betraying you every time I touch you."He moved his hand down her bare arm, fingertips skimming lightly over her skin.

"Like right now." He murmured, watching the goosebumps rise in their wake. "I haven't even touched you properly and you're already trembling."

He moved his hand down to her hip, his thumb tracing the edge.

"But that's the way things are between us, aren't they?" He said, voice low. "You deny how you feel about me, and I make your body admit it for you."

After a few rounds, they rest. The room was quiet for a moment, except for the sound of their uneven breaths.

He was on his back, eyes fixed on the ceiling as he tried to regulate his breathing. He turned his head toward her, eyes tracing over her figure.

She lay on her side, facing away from him, still trying to catch her breath.

He watched her for a moment, studying her—the way her chest rose and fell with each deep breath.

He reached over, his fingers touching the small of her back. " No more", he chuckled a bit at her response.

"Tired already?" He said, his voice gravelly. He propped himself up on an elbow, his eyes still on her.

"That was what, four times?" He asked, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. She ignored him; he chuckled again, amused at her silent treatment.

"You're not even going to respond?" He said, a slight hint of challenge in his voice.

His hand was still touching her back, fingers running over her soft skin. He shifted slightly, propping himself up higher.

"C'mon. Look at me." He said, voice soft. She did.

His eyes met hers, and he studied her face. Her cheeks were flushed, hair tousled. She was breathtakingly beautiful, and the fact that she was still denying her attraction only made it worse.

He reached out, gently tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

"You can deny how you feel all you want," he murmured. "But you can't deny how your body responds to me."

His eyes roamed over her figure again.

"Can't you see it even now? The way your body still trembles just from my touch."

"I don't want to argue on this anymore. You can imagine all you want."

He felt a twinge of frustration at her words, but kept his voice steady. "Imagine?" He echoed, his eyes locking onto hers.

He shook his head slightly, a soft scoff escaping his lips. "I'm not imagining anything."

He shifted closer, his voice quiet and edged with something almost like desperation.

"You can keep denying it all you want. But the way you tremble for me... the way you moan my name... You can't fake that, no matter how stubborn you are."

"I just gave a normal reaction to sex; it would have been the same with anyone, like I said. If I had married someone else, I would have still been this"

His jaw tightened at her words. "Stop saying that." He said, voice slightly sharper than intended.

The thought of her with someone else—any other man—made an unwanted surge of jealousy flare in his chest. He let out a breath, trying to rein himself in.

"You really think it would be the same?" He asked, his voice dropping to a low whisper. "You think some other man could make your body react the way I do?"

"Any woman you take will also feel the same; it's not just me."

He clenched his jaw again. He was getting increasingly frustrated with her stubbornness—and with himself for letting her get to him like this.

"Maybe." He said, trying hard to keep his voice even in the face of the images she was creating in his mind.

He ran a hand through his hair, jaw still tight.

"But they won't be you." He said. "And men won't know the right ways to touch you."

He hated the fact that he was even thinking about this—imagining her with someone else.

"No one else would know the exact way to touch you." He repeated, his voice edged with something almost like possession.

"No one else would know how to touch you like this," he said, his hand moving to her hip.

"How to kiss you here," he murmured, his other hand moving to her throat, fingertips tracing the underside of her jaw.

"How to make you want more."

"I don't want more."

He clenched his jaw tightly at her words—the frustration and desire within him building up like a tidal wave. "You're a goddamn liar." He said, unable to keep his voice even anymore.

He moved closer, his body now almost pressed against hers. He leaned in, his voice a low, possessive whisper in her ear.

"You can deny it all you want in your mind, but your body doesn't lie. You can't help how you respond to me—how you tremble when I touch you."

He brutally thrusts again. He was getting increasingly frustrated with her stubbornness—and with himself for letting her get to him like this.

"You can keep saying 'I don't want more,'" he murmured again, his hands moving to her sides. Butt, your body is begging for it."

He nipped her earlobe, his voice lower—almost a growl.

"It's begging for me, sweetheart, and you know it."He moved brutally, didn't say another word—his actions spoke louder.

With a rough, possessive thrust, he pushed into her again—hard and deep, making her gasp.

A low groan escaped his throat as he set a brutal pace, his hands gripping her hips tightly.

"You don't get to pretend with me," he growled between clenched teeth, "not when you're clenching around me like this."

His breath came hot against her neck as he drove into her—relentless, claiming.

"Say it," he demanded, "say you want this... say you want me.

"I hate you, Theodore. I'll do that always," she said in tears.

He froze for a split second at her words—her voice sharp, raw with defiance.

Then he laughed—a low, dark chuckle that rumbled in his chest.

"Hate me?" He repeated, still buried deep inside her. "You can hate me all you want."

He pulled back only to thrust in harder, making her gasp.

"Your body doesn't hate me. It craves me. Even now."

His grip tightened on her hips as he leaned down, lips brushing her ear—voice rough with desire and something dangerously close to emotion.

"And you'll do this again? Good." He growled. "Because I'll keep taking you... every time you say no... every time you say you hate me..."

Another brutal thrust.

"...I'll make sure your body screams yes.

"It speaks nothing, you hear me, my lord, it speaks nothing", she said with sarcasm.

"What she buried in denial, fate would one day unearth."

Can denial kill desire — or only make it stronger? 🤔

Also, why is she always so sleepy these days?👀