'He left early..."

"I'm coming in," he said from the other side, and I just bolted to the door. I don't even know how I managed to leave the bed—did I ran above it, did I go around, did I fumble or jump or slip? I don't know! But by the time the knob started twisting I was already there, barricading myself against the door to stop it from opening. "Lady Isa? What's wrong?" worry and confusion blended together, and I asked myself the exact same thing too!

'Why are you being like this Isa? You're not one to shy away from any men trying to flirt with you. Matter-of-factly, you quite like the feeling of leading them on and pushing them off the cliff. You're an enchantress, it's what you do! So. Why. Are. You. Being. Like. This. Now?! Just open the damn door and once and for all, see it for yourself if he's really worth the blushing and perked nipples!' The enchantress in me said.

"I… I'm not ready yet." I managed to utter, my back on the door, as I cleared my face with hair that sticked to my face.

"What are you not ready for?" I rolled my eyes. Must I always spell things out with this guy? I was starting to get turned off by the lack of common sense and slow reading between the lines, but then he said, "I thought you said communication is key to an effective relationship and that you're tired of playing mind games?" I bit my lower lip.

I did say that.

I really did say it.

Why did I have to say it?

I should've stayed like the woman who always hid her inner thoughts because that made me sort of mysterious, and men like a good challenge. I mentally screamed as I glared at the mess I made of the bed.

After a few more seconds, I sighed. Defeated by this… I don't even know what to call this man. With a deep breath, I faced the door. Though my hand trembled a little, as soon as I felt the cold knob against my palm, I straightened myself before twisting it. Then there he was, standing with half of his buttoned shirt open, slightly huffing, beads of sweat on his forehead.

I gulped.

"Where have you been?" I managed to steady my voice, but when he took a step forward, even though there's a considerable space between us, I took a huge step back.

Leon tilted his head, and I followed his eyes as it lowered—lower than my neck… lower than my collarbone. He took a glance at my chest, then he looked away, walked past me, clearing his throat.

"I, uh, I was out in the training grounds. I had some talk with my men regarding the, uh," he's rummaging something from the couch, "matter that we encountered earlier during patrol." When he was done rearranging the pillows, he moved to the divider and took one of the folded towels from a small round table just across the door to the bathroom.

"And you were sweating because of the meeting?" He looked like he hurriedly came home from a night of wild sex, I'd say.

"No," he swiftly turned towards me which made me flinched, my arms instinctively covered my chest. "We had a little training session too." Really? Training session hours after dinner? As soon as he was done saying it, he grabbed the ends of his tunic and pulled it over his head before dumping it on one of the two baskets just beside where he got the towel from.

I was planning on ogling him from where I stood, but I could feel the peaks of my mound stiffer, so I slightly panicked and walked my way to the bed and smoothened the sheets.

All my life I didn't once made my own bed. I've only watched the maids do it while I'm being tended to get ready for the day. They'd fluff my pillows, fold my duvet halfway to straighten the sheet then they'd pull the duvet over the sheets before arranging the pillows according to size. The larger, wider ones were at the back while the smaller and longer ones were in front. 

Yes, yes. That's exactly it. It's not a hard thing to do, so why is it that the duvet looks more crumpled than before I started? And why is there only one size and kind of pillow?

Suddenly troubled by uneasiness and my lack of knowing basic housekeeping knowledge, I paced back and forth while biting on my index finger's middle knuckle. It's a habit I didn't know I acquired whenever I'm faced with a dilemma.

As I continued to pace back and forth from my side of the bed and my dresser, my mind was too busy and loud to even notice the door of the bathroom opened. I was only made aware that I wasn't the only one in the room when a large and rough hand grabbed me by the wrist, tugged me forcefully that it hurt when I slammed right on his hard chest; his strong arm snaked across the small of my back, pulling me even closer that, because of our height difference, my feet were barely touching the floor.

"Wha—" was the only word that came out of my mouth before he claimed it.

It was just a kiss at first—wait, it wasn't even a kiss. It was just my lips and his lips pressed together for seconds. No movement, no tongue, nothing! Then he inched away which made me open my eyes and wonder if that's it? But when I looked back at him, his brows were slightly furrowed, his eyes begging as it shifted from my eyes to my lips then back to me again.

Do you want some more, I wanted to ask him, but as soon as my lips parted a little to voice my question, he took it again—more aggressively this time.

Softly at first, and then it gradually deepened. He inhaled deeply before ravaging my mouth like a starved man, and I wrapped my arms around his nape as the only sturdy pillar in this dizzy swaying world. His tongue darted inside mine and I let out a short moan as my remaining strength left my knees and I leaned on him completely—can someone rip this piece of annoying fabric off of me so Leon can see and feel how I'm enjoying this moment? How my body reacts in just the thought of him, of how I am fully prepared to accept his wholeness?

I was starting to get frustrated, annoyed—equally hungry for him…

My heart raced as his insistent mouth continued to devour me, sending wild tremors along my nerves—evoking a sensation that I never knew I had as I continued to let out moans when I could, and purr every time I feel his rough hands squeezing me. Then I felt him move. I thought he'd part from me, but he just walked backwards slowly until he bumped onto the stool in front of my vanity where he lowered himself, pulling me until I was straddling him.

When I felt his hand fumbling through the fabric of my nightgown, looking for an opening, though reluctantly, I placed both hands on his chest and pushed myself away even though I don't want to stop.

I need to take a breath, or I'll pass out.

"Leon…" I whispered, panting, as I stared at his half-opened eyes and wet lips. Drunk with his scent and kisses, I took his free hand and placed it on top one of my mounds. "T-touch me here," I stuttered, and I felt my cheeks warmed up.

I must be crazy right now since all I can think about is how I am desperate to have him to myself. How my body continues to ache and burn with desire for him. How he feels like the only source of water in the desert that I've been trying to cross to what seemed like an eternity.

He must think of me as a sex-driven woman who doesn't even know how to wait for our wedding night—but Leon started it. I would've been fine with just sleeping earlier. Why must he come straight at me with his loosely tied robe and force a kiss on me?

Now, I want more.

Heavens, I want him.

As if he's enjoying the sight of my disheveled self in front of him, his eyes narrowed on me as a smirk slowly emerged on his face.

"What do you want, Isa?" he asked in a deep, gravelly voice that, to be honest, sent tingles down my spine. "You need to communicate things properly for me to understand it."

Damn it, he's teasing me while I can feel his thing poking against my inner thigh even though his robe's pretty thick, and I still have my nightgown on.

I gulped. I know that just by looking at him, how big his body is, I already concluded that he's got to be big down there too. I fear that it's more than what I can handle. The last time I had a man was three years ago. For sure, accepting him will be a little painful.

"I… I want you."

"Want me? What part of me? My hands?" he smiled and squeezed my breast, "My lips?" I let out a short groan as I tilted my head to the side to give him access to the side of my neck where his little kisses made the hairs on my nape stand. "Or me?" my breathing hitched when he suddenly hooked my waist and pulled me closer to him that I'm perfectly on top of his growing shaft.

"All of it," I answered breathily, as his hands slowly pulled the sleeves of my nightgown down to present my aching mounds. He stared at it for a second, then cupped one, his thumb and forefinger playing with it. I couldn't help but moan and groan and squirm; instinctively lifting myself to him. 

"…Isa," I felt a hand on my shoulder and a faint voice, "Lady Isa…" my brows furrowed. Where did Leon's seductive voice go? And why is he shaking me in a very non-sexual way? "Lady Isa!" With another forceful voice and both hands on my shoulders shaking me, I forced my eyes open. "Were you having a nightmare? We heard you groaning and moving side to side restlessly. The trip must've exhausted you greatly, Lady Isa. Marie left to get you some tea to help you relax."

"What? Viola? What are you doing here?" I gathered the duvet to cover myself but when I looked down, I was fully clothed. 

"We came to wake you up, Lady Isa…"

"Wake—wait, what time is it?" I run my fingers through my hair and squinted to adjust my eyes to the light.

"It's already a quarter past ten in the morning."

"And where's the Count?" At least tell me we actually did something last night. Don't tell me that that steamy foreplay and the sex that should've followed was all but a perverted dream initiated by my own lewdness.

I mentally pulled my hair out of frustration and slapped myself at least three times. 

"He left early. He told us to wait for you to wake up that's why we were staying at the sitting room, organizing some of your clothes that's you haven't unpacked yet. Would you like to freshen up first before having brunch, my lady? You're drenched in sweat."