Please Come Back, My Love novel Chapter 39

Chapter 39

I didn’t understand.

My mind raced, trying to make sense of this. Was this some new manipulation tactic? Some way to lower my defenses before he struck?

I shifted slightly, testing. His arms tightened reflexively, but still, he did nothing else.

What the hell is happening?

Slowly, carefully, I turned my head to look at him.

His eyes were closed, his jaw tight, his expression… conflicted. Like he was fighting some internal battle I couldn’t see.

*Julian?” My voice came out softer than I intended.

His eyes opened, meeting mine. And for a moment–I saw something raw in them. Something vulnerable.

Then it was gone, replaced by that familiar intensity.

His hand came up to cup my face, thumb brushing my cheekbone. “Behave yourself,” he murmured, his voice rough. “Stay still. Or I won’t be responsible for

what happens next.”

But even as he said it, his other hand was already moving. Sliding down my stomach with deliberate slowness, tracing the curve of my hip, dipping between

my thighs.

No–not there, panic flashed through my mind. My baby… what if he can tell? What if he feels something different?

I gasped, my head falling back against his shoulder, even as my mind screamed to resist. This is how he destroys you–inch by inch. And now you’re destroying

your child too.

“That’s it,” he whispered against my ear. “Just feel.”

His fingers found my most sensitive spot, circling it with maddening precision. My hips bucked involuntarily, seeking more pressure, more friction–

betraying me, as always.

My body is betraying me, I thought desperately. Betraying my baby.

“Julian, please- The words came out as a whimper, my body arching despite myself.

“Please what?” His teeth grazed my earlobe, sending sparks down my spine. “Tell me what you want, Elena. Use your words.”

“I- My brain was fogging over, pleasure building in slow, devastating waves that made my thighs clench around his hand. I should stop this. For the baby.

For myself. “I can’t think when you-

“Good.” His fingers pressed harder, moving faster, relentless. ‘Don’t think. Just feel.”

His other hand moved to my breast, cupping it possessively, his thumb circling my nipple until it peaked under his touch. He pinched it lightly, and I cried out, my back bowing against him, water splashing wildly.

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Chapter 39

They’re more sensitive, I realized with hortor. Because of the pregnancy. He’ll notice. He has to notice.

“You’re so fucking responsive,” he growled, his voice thick with hunger. “So perfect for me.”

No, I thought, tears mixing with the steam on my face. I’m not perfect for you. I’m carrying someone else’s baby and letting you touch me like this.

I was trembling now, my body wound tight as a bowstring. The water around us rippled with each desperate movement, spilling over the sides in chaotic

waves.

Pleasure coiled low in my belly, building, building–but not quite there yet.

My breaths came in shallow gasps, my muscles tensing as I chased that elusive peak, only for it to slip away when his rhythm slowed deliberately.

I’m a monster, I thought as my body responded despite my guilt. What kind of mother am I? What kind of woman?

“Julian–faster,” I begged, my voice breaking, frustration mixing with need and self–loathing. Why is this so hard? Why does my body fight it even as it craves

more?

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