Chapter 133
The scene from the bathtub earlier flashed through his mind. She didn't seem fazed; her cheeks and even her body glowed with a faint pink hue. Despite having a child, her figure remained perfectly proportioned, her curves delicate, her skin smooth like a peeled egg. She was completely unguarded.
His gaze darkened as the heat in his chest began to rise. He grabbed her chin and gave her lips a quick firm bite. She let out a soft noise and pushed him away. He stared at her for a long moment before scooping her up and carrying her out.
Henry closed his eyes and tilted his head back as water cascaded down from above, streaming over his face and down his sharply defined throat, solid chest, and toned abs, tracing the prominent veins that led lower.
He glanced down, his expression grim. He had a wife, yet it had been so long since he'd indulged.
After a while, Henry emerged from the bathroom, his body still damp. Victoria was lying on the bed in the same position as before.
Her body was wrapped in a large towel, only her head visible. She was sleeping soundly.
Henry casually tossed his towel aside, his eyes fixed on her. He walked to the bed, sat down, and gently pinched her cheek.
"Tell me, how do you know Jayce?" he asked in a low voice.
He spoke quietly, but she didn't respond.
Henry's gaze fell to her lips. Thanks to his touch, her soft lips had puckered, plump and moist like ripe cherries, glistening with stible hue.
His Adam's apple bobbed heavily as he leaned closer.
Just as he was about to make contact, he sensed something and looked up, meeting her moist, wide eyes.
She blinked softly, her long, curled lashes fluttering like butterfly wings, stirring an odd itch in his chest.
"You're awake?" he asked, his voice low.
He didn't move back. The space between them remained close as his hand rested on her towel.
Victoria's eyes were hazy as she stared at him blankly. Suddenly, she spoke, "Henry."
Her voice was hoarse, yet it carried a softness that seemed to seep into his very bones.
Henry's throat tightened as the heat he had suppressed in the bathroom surged back, pooling in one place.
"Yeah," he replied, his voice heavy.
His gaze returned to her lips as he leaned closer once more.
"Smack!"
But the next moment, a crisp slap echoed through the room.
Victoria's eyes filled with shock as he looked at her, noticing the moisture gathering at the corners of her eyes.
"It's our wedding night. Why are you treating me like this?" she whimpered, her tone accusing.
For a moment, Henry was completely dumbfounded.
What?
Wedding night?
Seeing the intoxicated haze lingering in her eyes, he realized— she was dreaming about their wedding night. His brows furrowed as he pressed his tongue against his cheek, the spot where she had slapped him still tingling slightly.
"If you said you wouldn't love me, then get off my bed! You're not allowed up here!" she yelled, her tone rising in anger.
Suddenly, Victoria shoved him. As she struggled, her towel slipped off, revealing her fair skin, almost blinding in its brilliance.
Henry's Adam's apple bobbed as he pressed her down. "Don't move," he warned.
"Get away! Just go away!" she cried out.
Victoria seemed trapped in a nightmare, flailing wildly. In the chaos, she slapped him several more times–on his face, chin, and even his chest.
Henry's temple throbbed, the veins bulging as he tightened his grip. "Keep moving, and I won't hold back!" he growled.
She had aroused his desire, and now it was her dream responsibility to handle it!
Victoria, drunk and oblivious to his threats, was lost in memories of the past. Her anguish deepened, tears streaking her face and blurring her vision.
Henry got up and stepped away from her bed. She quieted, clutching the blanket as though it were armor, wrapping herself tightly and peeking out with wary, tear–filled eyes.
His heart felt gripped by a spiked hand, suffocating and aching. This unfamiliar sensation made Henry frown deeply. He hated it but couldn't shake it off.
Was her memory of their wedding night so vivid because of the hypnosis earlier? Irritated, he suddenly regretted subjecting her to hypnosis.
Turning, he reached for his clothes, pulling out a cigarette and holding it between his lips. Just as he was about to light it, a sharp voice rang out.
"No smoking!"
Henry looked up to see her slender arm poking out from the blanket, pointing at him with an air of bossy defiance.
The cigarette bobbed between his lips as he let out a laugh, equal parts amused and annoyed.
She wouldn't let him on the bed or let him smoke? How domineering could she get?
He walked over, his gaze dark and intent. "You won't even let me on the bed, so what gives you the right to boss me around, huh?"
Victoria ignored his words, focused only on her word. This was her house, and she wouldn't allow the smell of smoke to taint it.
"No smoking," she repeated stubbornly.
Suddenly, Henry grabbed her hand and pulled her up with one swift motion. The blanket slipped away, and the light spilled over her creamy skin, highlighting her soft curves.
His hand moved over her roughly, venting his frustration, but her soft warmth made his movements instinctively gentler.
"But I need a smoke. What do you suggest I do about it?"
Victoria swatted his hand away. "Stop touching me."
"Do you remember this is our wedding night? I'm your husband; touching you is only natural," Henry said, the cigarette still between his lips. As he spoke, his sharp, handsome features carried a roguish charm, his half–lidded eyes gleaming with amusement as he stared at her drunken state.
Her eyes were still red, and she wrinkled her nose at his words. "If I'd known you'd be so cold and heartless, I wouldn't have married you. It was just one night–chalk it up to experience."
She looked regretful, frustration flickering in her eyes.