Chapter 31 – The Night He Let His Guard Down

Leonidas woke before dawn, his senses coming alive before his body fully stirred,

his body heavy with warmth from the heat of her.

She was still curled against him, her breath soft, her body pressed into his side as if she belonged there.

And damn it, she did.

For a man accustomed to waking alone, the sensation of softness, warmth, and the delicate rhythm of another's breathing against his chest was foreign.

And yet, he didn't move.

She had fallen asleep in his arms, exactly as she had been the night before.

A slow breath left him, his chest tightening at the sheer intimacy of it.

His arm was slung over Anastasia's waist, his palm resting against the curve of her hip, fingers barely brushing her bare skin where her nightgown had ridden up.

His fingers itched to move, to trace the curve of her spine, to pull her even closer.

Instead, he let his gaze roam over her—the slow rise and fall of her chest, the way her lashes fanned over her cheeks, the way her lips parted slightly in sleep.

Innocent. Unaware.

She stirred slightly, shifting against him.

A slow exhale left him.

Damn.

If she moved again, he wouldn't be able to control himself.

Too close to something he wouldn't be able to stop himself if she moved the wrong way.

His fingers twitched, aching to explore, to pull her even closer, to wake her with his mouth on her throat, whispering things that would make her shudder.

Her breath hitched as she nestled closer, her body pressing into his in a way that made his blood heat.

And then, in a soft, barely-there whisper—

She sighed his name.

His grip on her tightened instinctively, his fingers digging into the fabric of her gown.

That wasn't fair.

She didn't even know what she was doing to him.

Didn't realize that she had been undoing him since the first moment she entered his life.

His lips brushed against her temple, his voice rough from sleep.

"Stay like this a little longer."

She tensed for a moment.

Then, she relaxed.

And for the first time in his life, Leonidas did not feel like a man who was waiting for something more.

Because she was already here. And by some miracle he survived the morning without pouncing on her.

The rest of the morning passed in a haze of tension.

She avoided his gaze during breakfast.

Her fingers trembled slightly whenever they accidentally touched.

It amuse him

Leonidas smirked, sipping his coffee slowly.

She was thinking about it.

Thinking about him.

And that pleased him more than it should.

By midday, he was restless.

He had planned to leave for work, to drown himself in reports, but something about today felt different.

His mind was not on business.

It was on her.

So instead of leaving, he found himself seeking her out.

And when he found her, she was in the library, standing on her toes, reaching for a book on the highest shelf.

Leonidas leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, watching her struggle for a moment before finally speaking.

"You're going to hurt yourself."

She startled, almost losing her balance.

When she turned to face him, her cheeks were flushed, her lips parted slightly.

Beautiful.

"I was fine," she said, stubborn.

He raised an eyebrow.

Without a word, he walked toward her, reaching easily for the book she had been struggling with.

But instead of handing it to her, he held it just out of reach.

"Say please."

Her eyes widened in horrified disbelief.

Her eyes widened.

She gaped at him, her lips forming a small, stunned "o."

And Leonidas, for the first time in a long time, felt pure amusement.

"That's childish," she grumbled.

He smirked. "Maybe. But I want to hear you say it." he countered smoothly.

Her glare deepened.

She hesitated, her lips pressing into a thin line.

And then—

"Please."

Her voice was soft, and the sound breathless, frustrated, unintentionally seductive— nearly made him drop the book altogether.

A single word.

And yet, it unraveled him.

Leonidas' smirk faded.

She had no idea what she was doing to him.

It was supposed to be innocent.

It was just a game.

Until he stepped closer.

Until she stopped breathing.

Until he realized that there was only a breath of space between them now.

And that she wasn't moving away.

He reached forward, not for the book—but for her.

His fingers tilted her chin up, forcing her to meet his gaze.

"Why are you always running from me?" he murmured.

Her breathing hitched.

"I-I'm not running."

"Then prove it."

And before she could answer—he kissed her.

The moment their lips met, something inside him snapped.

She gasped softly, and he devoured the sound, deepening the kiss instantly.

His hand slipped into her hair, tilting her head back as he pressed her firmly against the bookshelf.

She didn't resist.

Didn't pull away.

Instead, she melted.

She clung to him, her fingers fisting into his shirt, her soft sounds of surrender fueling his need.

He backed her against the bookshelf, trapping her between the books and his body.

She was so small, so helpless against him, yet she did not resist.

Instead, she softened, allowing him to taste her, allowing him to pull her deeper into his world.

Her hands clutched at his shirt, her body arching into him as he kissed her slowly, deliberately, savoring every second.

Leonidas growled lowly, his other hand sliding to her waist, lifting her just slightly so she had no choice but to hold onto him.

She shuddered, her breath hitching as his fingers skimmed her thigh beneath her gown.

By the time he pulled away, she was breathless, dazed, her lips swollen from his kisses.

And he—he was barely holding himself together.

He exhaled heavily, his forehead pressing against hers.

"Say you want me, Anastasia."

She trembled beneath him.

And then, so soft he almost didn't hear it—

"…I want you."

A groan escaped him.

His lips trailed lower, grazing the soft skin of her neck.

"Leonidas…" she whispered against his lips.

His grip on her tightened.

"Say my name again."

She did.

And it destroyed him.

Anastasia whimpered, her body trembling as he pinned her against the shelves, completely at his mercy.

He wanted to ruin her.

Wanted to hear nothing but his name from her lips.

Wanted to make her forget everything except the way he made her feel.

And he was going to—

Until—

A knock on the door.

Leonidas froze.

His body was still pressed against hers, his breath heavy, his heart hammering against his ribs.

But the knock came again.

And his patience snapped.

"What?" he snapped, his voice like ice.

A brief pause.

Then—

"Sir, an urgent letter has arrived."

Leonidas exhaled sharply.

His jaw clenched.

Damn it.

Anastasia was panting against him, still caught in his hold, her fingers tangled in his shirt.

He pulled back, just enough to put distance between them—but not enough to let her go.

His hand remained on her hip, his thumb still grazing bare skin.

He looked down at her—her dazed eyes, her swollen lips, the way she still clung to him.

She was too beautiful like this.

Breathless.

Dazed.

Ruined for anyone else but him.

He swallowed hard, forcing himself to

step away before he threw whoever was at the door out of the estate entirely.

His jaw tightened.

"Stay here."

Anastasia blinked, still breathless, her eyes clouded with confusion and lingering heat.

He turned, his expression hardening as he strode toward the door, with every ounce of control he had left.

The servant handed him the letter.

Leonidas ripped it open.

His eyes scanned the words—and his entire body went still.

The air in the hallway shifted.

The weight of the message settled in his chest like a ticking bomb.

Anastasia appeared in the doorway, still slightly unsteady, he had already erased all emotion from his face.

She was watching him.

Curious.

Worried.

Too perceptive.

"Leonidas?" she asked softly.

He exhaled slowly, folding the letter neatly and slipping it into his pocket.

"Nothing serious," he said smoothly.

Her brows furrowed slightly.

"Then why do you look—"

"Just work," he interrupted, his tone even. "I need to step out for a few hours."

She hesitated.

"…Now?"

He nodded. "Adrian is waiting outside. I won't be long."

He didn't kiss her.

Didn't touch her.

Didn't let her see the storm brewing beneath his skin.

Instead, he simply walked away, leaving her standing there in the doorway—confused, breathless, and completely unaware of what was coming.