Wicked Husband-Chapter 155 - 154

The silence between them was heavy. Only the sound of their slow, synchronized breathing filled the still room. His hand stayed around her wrist.

If she continued to avoid him, this would likely stretch on indefinitely. She didn’t have the courage to meet his gaze, but she had even less desire to remain in this shared space.

Hesitating, Eileen finally gathered the strength to lift her head. The moment she did, their eyes met—as if he had been waiting.

They stared at each other in silence. Neither Cesare nor Eileen spoke, their gazes locked.

The bedroom was dim, the lamp casting a warm glow that never quite reached the brightness of daylight. Eileen spoke in an even softer voice.

"Please, let me go."

But Cesare only tilted his head slightly. His gaze, steady and unwavering, lingered on her before dropping to her tightly pressed lips.

"How should I make you forgive me?" he asked.

Eileen fought to keep resentment from coloring her expression as she looked at him. His grip on her wrist slowly loosened, his hand trailing up her arm before cupping her cheek.

Eileen parted her lips just enough to speak. There was so much she wanted to say—enough to fill three days and nights of conversation.

But she knew it was pointless. No matter what she said, it wouldn’t reach him.

For whatever purpose, Cesare had already set his course and was steadily following it. He wouldn’t change it—not for her.

"...Please."

All Eileen could manage was a desperate whisper.

"Don’t get hurt..."

Tears welled up and rolled down her cheeks, dampening the hand that cradled her face.

"Promise me you won’t recklessly get hurt."

She felt foolish, thinking her tearful plea might seem pathetic, yet she couldn’t hold back her tears.

No matter how much she begged, she knew she couldn’t stop him from walking the path he had chosen. Still, with all her heart, she wished she could stand in his way.

Despite her heartfelt plea, Cesare didn’t reply. He simply gazed at her for a long moment, then leaned in for a kiss.

Eileen understood too well that his kiss was his answer—a rejection. Swallowing her sobs, she accepted his lips. The taste was salty from her tears.

When Eileen recoiled slightly, hiding her tongue behind her lips, he pursued it, teasing her. The soft, pliant touch of their lips created damp sounds.

Cesare lightly grazed her palate, coaxing her to swallow. When she did, he kissed her more deeply, as if in approval.

Her heart felt ready to burst from the bitterness she held for him, yet her body betrayed her, trembling uncontrollably beneath his touch. Overwhelmed by this contradiction, she cried even harder.

Cesare finally drew back, his voice soft as he tried to console her.

"Don’t cry."

Eileen wiped at her tears with trembling hands.

"Sniff... you always... always do this. If you don’t want to talk, you just... kiss me..."

She wanted to express her frustration clearly, but the words came out disjointed. Yet Cesare seemed to understand.

When he saw her crying, his expression faltered. A flicker of surprise passed across his crimson eyes, as though he hadn’t realized how deeply his actions had stifled her.

Eileen stared at him, her tear-streaked face studying every subtle shift in his expression.

Cesare had always been indifferent to others. He had no need to soothe or comfort; his role was to command. But Eileen had always been the exception.

When she was younger, Cesare would calm her tears with sweets, books, or play. But now that she was grown, their relationship had deepened, and such methods no longer sufficed.

Unconsciously, Cesare had turned to physical intimacy as his solution.

"...I see."

He let out a low chuckle, his smile tinged with helplessness. Then, he kissed her again—not deeply this time, but a fleeting press of lips.

"How should I comfort you now?"

His straightforward admission left Eileen speechless. Wide-eyed, she stared at him, only for him to kiss the corners of her eyes.

His tongue brushed over her wet lashes and the corners of her eyes, making her shiver and shrink away. Yet, he didn’t stop, tenderly licking away her tears.

His lips trailed to her ear, biting its flushed tip before tracing its curve with his tongue. The wet, intimate sounds felt as though they echoed directly into her head, sending shivers down her spine.

"How can I make you forgive me, Eileen?" he murmured, his tongue briefly slipping into her ear before pulling back. The sensuality of his actions turned her face a deep crimson.

"Promise me," she stammered, flustered. "Promise you won’t put yourself in danger again. That you won’t do anything reckless, like last time... Ah!"

Before she could finish, she found herself pinned to the bed. Cesare moved atop her with ease, his movements as graceful as a predator’s. Eileen panicked and tried to push him off, but he uttered a single word that froze her.

"It hurts."

Eileen’s hands fell limp, clasping over her chest as if bound. She looked up at him with trembling eyes.

"You can’t... Your wound will reopen," she said urgently, glancing nervously at his shoulder. The bandages might bleed through at any moment.

Cesare seemed unconcerned, paying her words little heed.

Though his body healed unnaturally fast, it still took time. He had admitted that even with his rapid recovery, this particular gunshot wound would take at least a week to fully heal.

She worried that the wound might worsen, prolonging his pain. No matter how briefly, she didn’t want him to suffer.

With her thoughts spinning, Eileen’s mind overloaded, and an absurd suggestion tumbled out.

"I-I’ll get on top!"

The words slipped out in sheer desperation, an instinctive attempt to shift their positions. But the unintended implications made her freeze.

Cesare’s hands tightened around her waist as he gazed up at her, his crimson eyes shimmering in the lamplight. Her heart clenched painfully at the faint, inexplicable urgency she thought she saw in his gaze.

It was a foolish thought, and she chastised herself for it. But before she could quell her emotions, Cesare spoke, his voice calm and sincere.

"I’m sorry, Eileen."