He Waited She Wilted (Ottilie and Yorath) novel Chapter 130

Yorath leaned over, pressing his hands against the headboard.

He trapped Ottilie perfectly between his body and the bed.

Lowering his head, his lips hovered mere millimeters from hers.

The sharp scent of mint lingered on his breath, making Ottilie's mind swim.

The memories of their past intimacy washed over her in a disorienting wave.

"Trying to pawn me off on someone else?"

Not knowing what to say, Ottilie chose silence.

Yorath let out a low laugh. The sound was icy, seeping straight into her bones.

"Don't play with fire, Tilly."

"Well, you spend an absolute fortune keeping all those women," Ottilie said softly. "If you don't put them to work, aren't you just wasting your money?"

"Am I supposed to thank you for being so considerate of my finances?"

"You're welcome." Ottilie forced a weak smile. "It's late. And the sun is already coming up. I didn't sleep at all last night."

She was exhausted.

"You seemed perfectly awake when you were planning to coach Nyssa just now," Yorath said coldly. "Or did you want a threesome? Did you want to stand on the sidelines and direct? Is that what gets you off? Since when are you into that?"

He didn't use a single profanity, but the insult was crystal clear.

She knew he was calling her a freak.

"I have zero interest in that."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive." Ottilie raised a hand as if swearing an oath.

Yorath caught her fingers, pressing a soft kiss against them. "Go to sleep."

He reached over, flicked off the light, and pulled her into his arms as he lay down.

He held her flush against him, leaving absolutely no space between them.

Yorath was burning up, clearly still highly aroused.

Ottilie didn't dare move a muscle, terrified she'd set him off again.

Despite being exhausted, she couldn't fall asleep.

Yorath couldn't sleep, either.

She tried subtly inching her way out of his embrace, but his arms were like iron vices.

She couldn't move an inch.

"Please let me go. It's too hot."

"I'm going too?" Ottilie asked.

"Yes." Yorath packed the final container and placed it in an insulated bag.

"Let's go." He picked up the bag and grabbed Ottilie's hand with his free one.

Ottilie had no choice but to follow.

When they reached the garage, she noticed her old Volkswagen Jetta had somehow been brought back and parked in its original spot.

Catching her gaze, Yorath glanced at the car. "I pay the insurance on it every year. You can drive it whenever you want."

"No thanks. I can't afford the gas."

More importantly, she couldn't even remember if her license had expired.

If it had and she got caught driving, Yorath would absolutely use it against her and have her locked up for a few days.

She wasn't about to hand him any leverage.

They arrived at the Phoenix Hotel.

It was the exact same private dining room Marcella had used last time.

When they walked in, she was already there.

She was dressed in a bespoke emerald-green silk gown, an elegant pearl shawl draped over her shoulders.