Transmigrated Into The True Heiress-Chapter 174: I Want You

The way he’d looked at her last night.

The feel of his mouth on her collarbone.

His voice—low and rough—saying things that made her spine arch and her brain short-circuit.

The way he touched her was like he knew her body.

The way she let him.

The way she wanted him to.

Every second of it was etched into her head.

Her entire face burned.

She closed her eyes for a beat, pressing her face into his chest again, praying for the universe to reboot itself.

But no. No restart. No denial.

She inhaled slowly through her nose and exhaled through her mouth.

Get it together.

"Morning," Lyle murmured, his voice like gravel and silk—barely awake, but aware enough to catch the tension creeping into her muscles.

"Morning," she managed, though it came out higher-pitched than she meant it to.

He didn’t move much—just tilted his head enough to press a kiss to her hairline.

She stiffened slightly. Just for a second.

It wasn’t the kiss that startled her—it was the tenderness.

Okay, it was also the kiss.

Or maybe... maybe it wasn’t even a kiss?

Maybe he just wanted to turn his head, and because they were so close, his lips accidentally brushed her head.

Right?

Suddenly, Lyle’s clear voice called out to her. "Ephyra."

"What?" Ephyra squeaked, sitting up and inadvertently putting distance between them. The duvet slid into her lap, revealing her silky white nightgown.

Embarrassed, she tugged it up and finally faced him with a thin smile.

Big mistake.

His hair was tousled, his smile lazy and pleased, and he looked so perfectly at home in her bed that her brain short-circuited again.

"Stop looking like that," she said.

"Like what?"

"Like... like you just woke up from a night of glor—glor-ious s-sex."

She whispered the last part and quickly looked away.

He raised a brow. "What?"

"Nothing. What did you want to say?"

Lyle looked at her for a while before speaking.

"I want you."

Ephyra, who had just been about to move her hair over her shoulders, froze and stared at him.

Before she could respond, he sat up, took her hands gently, and kissed her knuckles.

"I know I said, two nights ago on the rooftop, that I wanted something more. But I’ve already thought about it, and I don’t care if you don’t feel the same way or if you won’t reciprocate anything I do. I still want you. I want to care for you, to touch you, to see the real you—and to love you.

"Ephyra, please... let me be a real husband. Let me be the best husband to you."

At this point, Ephyra’s mouth was slightly open, and she couldn’t articulate her erratic thoughts into actual words.

"Ephyra?"

"Uh, yeah? Yes, um..."

She closed her eyes, sighed, then opened them again.

"I... I need to think about it. About... about what you said.

"Ephyra, I absolutely don’t care if you don’t want to tell me things or want to do everything your own way when it comes to your life." His tone was firm and his gaze boring into hers.

"Lyle, I realize that. And I’m grateful—really, I am—but I still need to think about it. This doesn’t even seem fair to you, Lyle."

"Uhm... I’m going to take my leave." She hurriedly turned to get down but before she could place her legs down, Lyle grabbed her wrist and pulled her into his arms.

"Ephyra, I know you’re not going to think about it," Lyle said, voice low but steady. "You’re just trying to leave. I know that look. But I want to have this conversation. I don’t want you to run away. I don’t want you to feel scared."

He pulled her in tighter, holding her as if he could anchor her there by sheer will. His voice was more raw now, almost pleading.

"Because I really want you. I’ve never wanted anything as much as I want you, Ephyra. Not in my whole life. And I’d do anything—absolutely anything—to have you. You could tell me whatever you want me to do, and I swear I’d make it happen. No questions. No hesitations. Just say it."

He took her hand gently, lifted it to his lips, and kissed her palm—slowly, tenderly. Then, just as gently, he leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead.

Ephyra drew in a shaky breath and closed her eyes, letting herself feel it. The warmth of his hands. The calm strength of his presence. The affection that wrapped around her like a weighted blanket she didn’t realize she needed.

Lyle pulled back slightly and looked her in the eye, his expression completely open. No defenses. No games. Just honesty.

"Ephyra," he said again, quietly, like he was speaking her name into her soul. "I want you."

"Lyle..." she breathed.

"I want you to be with me," he whispered, then leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her right eyelid.

"I want you," he murmured again, kissing her left eye.

"I want you," he repeated a third time, his voice barely above a breath, as he kissed the tip of her nose.

Then he pulled back slightly, his stare locked on her face, unwavering.

Ephyra’s breath stuttered.

"I want you more than anything," he said, and began to close the distance between them.

He was just inches away from her lips, his eyes dropping to her mouth, when her hand shot up and gently pressed against his.

His eyes widened in surprise.

She stared at him, wide-eyed and serious.

"We both just woke up," she said, voice soft but clear, "and as much as I want you to kiss me right now..." She paused, dramatically. "We need to brush."

Lyle blinked.

And before he could say a word, she bolted—throwing off the duvet like it was on fire and scrambling out of the bed with an agility that surprised even herself.

"I’m going to freshen up in my room!" she called over her shoulder, already halfway to the door, her nightgown swishing behind her like she was fleeing a crime scene.

Stunned, Lyle sat there, staring at the empty space she’d just vacated.

A beat passed.

Then he looked down at himself, shook his head with a disbelieving grin, and chuckled.

"Ephyra... you fucking drive me crazy."

....

Ephyra had just finished bathing.

She stepped out of the steamy bathroom wrapped in a towel, her skin still warm from the hot water. Her hair dripped slightly, so she quickly reached for a towel and began patting it dry. With one hand, she rummaged through her drawer and pulled out a soft cropped hoodie and comfy gray sweatpants.

Once she was fully dressed and scrubbed up, she picked up her phone from the nightstand and stared at the screen like it had offended her.

Her thumb hovered over Janya’s name.

Then she jumped over to Malia’s.

Back to Jania.

Then Malia.

Then Jania again.

She bit the tip of her index finger and paced in a tiny circle like a malfunctioning Roomba.

No, she’d never told Malia about Lyle.

Finally, with a sigh, she tapped Jania’s contact.

It rang.

And rang.

And rang.

Just when she thought it was going to go to voicemail—

Click.

"Hey, Ephyra—"

"LYLE AND I KISSED LAST NIGHT!" Ephyra screamed, cutting her off. "It was a French kiss and my first fucking kiss and I loved it so damn much! And then—we made out. Like, made out, Jania. Kissing for a long time, hands everywhere, and then he stopped—and I don’t even know why, but then I fell asleep!"

She stood frozen in her room, panting like she’d just run a marathon made entirely of sin and poor impulse control.

On the other end of the line, silence.

Then Jania’s voice came through—high-pitched, climbing with disbelief.

"WHAT?! What the fuck are you saying, Ephyra?! What the hell did you just tell me?! You and Master Lyle made out yesterday? When?! How?!"

"He asked if he could kiss me and I said yes and it was so soft at first but then—then it got fast and hot and my brain just stopped working—Jania, it stopped working!" Ephyra practically yelled into the phone, flopping onto her bed like her soul was trying to escape through her spine. "And he kissed me like he meant it! Like he felt something. And he said he wants to be a real husband to me. Like, what does that even mean?!"

Janya’s voice dropped to an aggressive whisper.

"Oh my god. You had one kiss together and Master Lyle went full worship mode on you?! I hoped something would happen between you two during this vacation but not this fast!"