Vengeance in His Bed novel Chapter 177

Chapter 177: An Agonizing Seduction

The clock down the corridor struck three muffled chimes.

In his suite, Dorrent stared blankly at the ceiling, his eyes wide and clear. He hadn’t slept a single wink. The room was suffocatingly warm, but the heat inside his own skin had nothing to do with the summer night. Every time he closed his eyes, his mind dragged him back to the threshold of the door—to the venomous fire in Jannah’s eyes, the tear-stained curve of her cheeks, and the staggering weight of her hatred.

He was bothered. The ruthless corporate king who could stabilize entire markets with a single directive, felt completely unraveled by a five-foot-four herbalist from the lower sectors. A primal ache clawed at the walls of his chest, an intense psychological need that defied all logic. He needed to talk to her. He needed to hear the sharp, defensive frequency of her voice, even if she was hurling curses at his ancestry. More than that, his body burned with a sudden, dirty craving that made his veins run hot—a desperate urge to haul her back into his lap, to crush her hips against his thighs, to kiss her until she gasped for air, and to do all other kinds of wicked, unspeakable things to her until her hatred dissolved into breathless arousal.

She was just in the next room. Only a shared wall separated their breathing.

Dorrent shifted slightly against the pillows, a localized pang shooting through his bandaged ribs as his stitches protested the movement. He ignored it, his jaw clenching. She must be fast asleep by now, he thought, his eyes tracking the sliver of moonlight filtering through the drapes. If he walked across the threshold right now, would he find her already dead to the world, curled up like a wild, untamed creature in the center of the mattress?

The thought took root, growing heavy and irresistible. Slowly, Dorrent pushed the sheets off his frame. He sat on the edge of the bed, his chest expanding with a slow, heavy breath. She will be my wife soon anyway, he rationalized, his possessive alpha instincts completely warping his restraint into a firm justification. We are getting married. She needs to get used to my presence, used to the static of my body sharing her space. There’s no point in keeping up this pathetic wall between us.

Standing up, he navigated the dark room, his feet making absolutely no sound against the floor. He stepped into the corridor, his gaze locked onto her bedroom door. He didn’t bother reaching for the light switches; his eyes had already adjusted to the shadows of the mansion.

He gripped her brass doorknob, turning it with an agonizingly slow precision until the latch clicked open without a sound. He stepped inside, closing the door behind him until the room was completely dark, enveloped in a private obscurity.

Dorrent tiptoed toward the bed, his pheromones coiled tightly beneath his skin. Reaching out in the dark, his hand found the edge of the mattress. He reached for the heavy duvet, intending to lift the sheets so he could slide through and anchor himself beside her. But as his fingers tugged at the fabric, he frowned. The sheets were completely flat, tucked tightly under the mattress, loose and devoid of any weight.

He paused, his eyebrows drawing together. Had she slept without covering herself up at all? Was she just lying on top of the covers because of the oppressive heat?

Without thinking further, Dorrent slowly lowered his frame onto the edge of the mattress, shifting his long legs onto the bed to lie down beside her.

The moment his side settled against the mattress, his shoulder and thigh came into direct, unhindered contact with something else. Dorrent almost bolted upright, his entire nervous system detonating in shockwave.

It was a body. A very warm, soft, naked body.

Jannah was sleeping stark naked.

Dorrent froze, his breath trapping itselfin his throat as the reality of the contact registered in his brain. She was lying on her side, her back turned to him, her delicate skin radiating a natural, intoxicating warmth that cut straight through the cool dynamic of the dark room. He could feel the light, rhythmic rising and falling of her ribcage against the air, the soft static of her bare skin mere millimeters from his chest.

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