Divorce me I'm done serving you (Ayla) novel Chapter 758

Draven held Ayla, then rolled them over in one dizzying motion, pinning her beneath him again. He locked both her wrists above her head, dominant and unyielding. "Let me, then."

"What exactly are you going to do?"

His gaze traced every line of her face. Just that look alone was enough to burn her. He lowered his voice. "Have you recovered yet?"

She didn't know what to say.

"Then let's keep going. There are plenty of other ways."

When Ayla woke the next morning, her eyes were still a little red. They hadn't actually gone all the way—yet her legs were still weak.

She'd lost weight over these four months. Her stamina had fallen behind Draven's.

And she was supposed to be the younger one.

Unbelievable.

But being worn out meant Draven could take care of everything himself—and he did.

Brushing her teeth, washing her face, dressing her, and even doing her hair. He did it all.

Once Ayla was dressed, Draven carried her over to the couch.

He personally poured her water to soothe her throat.

Draven lowered his eyes. His gaze was deep and steady. Back in his usual clothes, dressed to the nines, his cool composure made him look even more collected and unreadable.

Ayla thought to herself, What a performer.

"Feeling any better?"

Ayla didn't answer. She communicated entirely through eye contact.

The throwing-daggers kind.

As if sealed behind his clothes, Draven caught that look. Their eyes met, and the charged undercurrent in his gaze slowly turned to heat. He moved in close, fingers settling against the back of her head, his touch nothing like the night before—this one was gentle, drawn-out. And then he kissed his girlfriend, long and slow and unhurried.

When the kiss ended, he said, "Good morning, Ayla."

Ayla's hands rested on his shoulders. She looked up at him, licked the corner of her mouth, and smiled. "Good morning."

She loved his dignified, noble look, and she also loved the "bad" side he only showed to her.

She genuinely couldn't keep up with how fast he slipped back into his "serious" mask.

Honestly, she wasn't that easily embarrassed. But at breakfast, the nanny in charge of preparing the food was the same one who'd been with them in Zheron.

Back then, Ayla and Draven had been so careful with each other, so deliberately distant—and this nanny still seemed to be treating them exactly that way.

Draven slid right into it without missing a beat. But with Ayla's head full of last night, watching him perform his proper, reserved act was genuinely impossible to watch—and she very much wanted to laugh.

Mr. Storm, perfectly composed as ever.

While absolutely, unmistakably not.

"Because I'm curious about you. And that's because you matter to me." Draven's eyes were deep and sincere. He patted his lap. "Come here."

Ayla sat where she was.

"Don't want to?" Draven paused. "Then, I'll come get you."

Ayla weighed it and decided to get up herself. They were sitting right next to each other anyway.

The moment she started to rise, Draven's arm caught her at the waist—one smooth pull—and she landed in front of him. He draped one arm around her shoulders and used the other to feed her the rest of her unfinished breakfast.

Ayla thoroughly enjoyed being fed.

The arm around her shoulders slid lower. "Give me your hand."

Ayla looked over, then offered it.

Her hand was folded into his palm. His fingertips moved slowly across the soft center of her hand—not going anywhere particular, just the kind of instinctive, quiet closeness that came from holding her.

Ayla curled her fingers now and then to meet his large hand.

Draven pressed his cheek to hers. "I still want to hear your answer."

Ayla looked at how attentively he'd been feeding her, and gave him what he wanted. "Both, obviously. If I didn't like you, I wouldn't be with you at all. But if I had to choose, the real you. Because I know what you're thinking. There's no pressure. And I can just be myself."

If he'd tried to win her back right after the breakup, they probably wouldn't have landed here—this open, this honest, this easy with each other. Even if they'd gotten back together sooner, they likely would've fallen into the same old patterns.