Too Late Mr. White! I'm Married To Your Rival Now novel Chapter 73

Aiden's POV

I hadn't intended for us to become a spectacle.

When I lifted Aria into my arms and carried her from the theater, I was fully aware of the attention we would draw, but her wellbeing mattered more than public opinion.

As we made our exit, whispers erupted around us. I felt Aria bury her face against my chest—a futile attempt to hide from the curious stares.

Her embarrassment was evident, but I found her reaction oddly endearing.

Summer, Aria's assistant, finally noticed our departure and came rushing after us. By then, I had already carried Aria outside to where Lucas was waiting with the car.

"Aiden! What happened to Aria?" Summer called out, concern written across her face as she caught up to us.

I carefully settled Aria into the backseat before turning to address her assistant. "Taking her to have her leg examined at the hospital."

Understanding dawned on Summer's face. "Oh! Yes, that's probably for the best."

She stepped back respectfully as Lucas closed the car door.

As we pulled away, I caught sight of Summer in the rearview mirror, watching our departure with what appeared to be an amused smile.

I returned my attention to Aria, who seemed determined to avoid my gaze, her cheeks still flushed.

She remained silent throughout the drive, staring out the window, fingers lightly twisting the hem of her sleeve.

As we pulled up to the hospital entrance, she moved quickly—too quickly—pushing the door open before I could come around to her side.

"Aiden, I can walk!" she insisted, clearly determined to avoid being carried again.

I studied her face for a moment but decided not to argue. If she wanted to preserve her dignity, I'd allow it—for now.

The hospital visit was mercifully quick. The doctor examined Aria's leg, took some X-rays, and confirmed what I had suspected: no serious damage, but she needed to continue resting it.

Despite her protests that she felt fine, I noticed how she winced slightly when putting pressure on that foot.

By the time we finished at the hospital, it was already past noon.

"Would you prefer to eat out or go home?" I asked as we exited the building.

Aria hesitated briefly. "Home?"

I nodded in agreement. Weekend restaurants would be crowded, and I had no desire to share this time with her surrounded by prying eyes and inevitable interruptions.

"Home it is," I instructed Lucas, who was waiting with the car.

As the car pulled away from the hospital, I noticed Aria relaxing slightly in her seat.

The silence between us was comfortable, charged with something unspoken.

I studied her profile—the delicate curve of her jaw, the way her eyelashes cast shadows on her cheeks when she looked down.

After several minutes of this, Aria finally turned toward me, her eyebrows drawn together slightly. "Why do you keep staring at me like that?"

"Is it so strange for a man to look at his wife?" I replied, my voice low and controlled despite the surge of possessiveness I felt saying those words.

She opened her mouth as if to argue but then closed it again, clearly at a loss for words. She turned her face away, but not before I caught the blush spreading across her cheeks.

"Why didn't you call me when you had trouble earlier today?" I asked, unable to keep the edge from my voice. The thought of her being mistreated while I was unaware still rankled.

"I'm not used to it," she admitted after a moment's hesitation. "And I didn't think of it at first."

"Next time, I want to be the first person you call," I said firmly. "No matter how minor the issue seems."

She nodded. "I understand."

I took her hand—carefully.

Her face flushed beautifully with embarrassment, but desire won out. "Touch me. Please."

I obliged, but not in the way she expected. I continued my leisurely exploration, tracing patterns with my tongue along the crease of her thigh, so close to where she wanted me yet deliberately avoiding it.

Her hips lifted, seeking contact, but I placed my hands firmly on her thighs, holding her still. "Patience," I murmured against her heated skin.

When I finally tasted her, she gasped, her body arching off the bed. I took my time, exploring every fold and crevice with deliberate precision, learning what made her breath catch and what drew those delicious moans from her throat.

I circled her most sensitive spot with my tongue, applying just enough pressure to build her desire without granting release. Her fingers tightened in my hair, her thighs trembling on either side of my head.

"Aiden, please," she begged, her voice breaking.

Only then did I relent, focusing my attention where she needed it most, my tongue flattening against her before sucking gently. Her response was immediate—her back arched sharply, a strangled cry escaping her lips.

I didn't stop, riding out her release with her, my hands now holding her hips as they bucked against my mouth. Only when her tremors subsided did I pull back, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand as I surveyed my work—her flushed skin, her chest heaving with each breath, her eyes glazed with satisfaction.

"You're beautiful like this," I told her, my voice rough with my own desire.

She surprised me then, pushing herself up onto her elbows. "Let me," she whispered, her eyes flicking down to the obvious bulge in my pants.

I raised an eyebrow, intrigued by her boldness. When I didn't immediately object, she grew more confident, sitting up fully and reaching for my belt.

Her movements were hesitant, unpracticed—a reminder of her relative innocence that only fueled my arousal further. When she finally freed me from the confines of my clothing, her eyes widened slightly, and I couldn't help the surge of male pride that coursed through me.

Her first tentative lick nearly undid me. The sight of her—my wife—on her knees before me, those full lips wrapped around me, was almost too much to bear.

Her technique was clearly inexperienced, but her enthusiasm made up for what she lacked in skill. The combination of her eager mouth and uncertain movements created an exquisite torture that pushed me dangerously close to the edge far too quickly.

When I couldn't take it anymore, I gently pulled her away, laying her back on the bed. I positioned myself between her thighs, ready to claim her completely.

Just as I was about to enter her, the shrill ring of her phone cut through our passion-induced haze.