His innocent wife is a dangerous hacker.-Chapter 569 Precious

"You’re not sleepy anymore?" he asked. His voice was lower now, rougher, a question that was not quite a question.

Bella’s hand stilled for a moment, then continued its slow path, this time more deliberate. Her fingers traced the line of his collarbone, then drifted down over his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heart beneath her palm.

"I am tired," she whispered into the darkness. Her voice was soft, sleepy at the edges, but something warmer flickered beneath it. "But not sleepy anymore."

His hand caught hers mid-motion, stilling her wandering fingers against his chest. The warmth of his grip was gentle but firm, stopping her just as her touch was beginning to ignite something deeper.

He turned his head toward her, and even in the dim light filtering through the curtains, she could see the shift in his gray eyes, the way they darkened, the way they focused entirely on her.

"I have ways," he murmured, his voice dropping to a husky whisper that sent a shiver down her spine, "to make you sleepy."

Before she could respond, he moved slowly and carefully, always mindful of his back, but with a deliberate grace that made her breath catch. He lifted himself, shifting his weight, and then he was above her, hovering, his forearms braced on either side of her head, his body a warm, solid presence that blocked out the rest of the world.

Bella’s hands came up instinctively, resting on his shoulders, feeling the tension in his muscles, the controlled strength in every line of him.

"Leo..." His name left her lips like a sigh, like a question, like an answer all at once.

He lowered his head, his lips brushing against the shell of her ear. "Tell me to stop," he breathed, the words warm against her skin, "and I will."

Her fingers curled into his shoulders.

"Don’t stop," she whispered.

His mouth found hers, and the world dissolved.

The kiss started slow, a gentle exploration, a rediscovery. His lips moved against hers with the patience of a man who had all night, who wanted to savor every second. Bella’s fingers slid into his hair, pulling him closer, and he groaned softly against her mouth.

The hours that followed were a blur of warmth and whispered words, of skin against skin, of breathless gasps and moans. His hands mapped every curve, his lips followed every path, and she responded in kind, giving as much as she received, meeting every touch with one of her own.

When it was over, when they lay tangled together in the aftermath, their breathing slowly evening out, Bella’s eyes were already fluttering closed.

Leo watched her for a moment, the soft curve of her cheek, the way her lips curved in a sleepy smile, the gentle rise and fall of her chest against his.

One round, he thought with quiet amusement. That was all it took.

A low chuckle rumbled in his chest, careful not to jostle her.

He waited a few minutes, letting her drift deeper, then carefully extracted himself. She murmured something unintelligible but did not wake. He moved to the bathroom, returning with a warm, damp cloth, and cleaned her gently.

When he was done, he pulled the blankets up over her, then slid back into bed beside her. She turned instinctively, seeking his warmth, her face pressing against his chest, her arm draping across his stomach.

He wrapped himself around her like she was the most precious thing in the world.

Because she was.

His lips pressed to the top of her head. His eyes closed. Within minutes, sleep claimed him too.

Bella woke to warmth.

His scent surrounded her completely, that intoxicating mix of clean soap, warm skin, and something deeper, muskier, purely Leo. It wrapped around her like a second layer of skin, comforting and arousing all at once.

She smiled before she even opened her eyes.

When she did, her breath caught.

He was wrapped around her like she was the most precious thing in the world. One arm was tucked beneath her head, his bicep a solid pillow beneath her cheek. The other arm draped possessively across her waist, his hand splayed warm against the bare skin of her lower back. His legs were tangled completely with hers, one thigh thrown over her own, pinning her gently to the bed, making her feel claimed even in sleep.

Her face was pressed against his bare chest, her cheek resting directly over his heart. She could feel it, slow, steady, strong, each beat a reassurance that he was here, alive, hers.

Butterflies erupted in her stomach.

Wild, fluttering, ridiculous butterflies that made her feel giddy. After all this time, after everything they’d been through, he still made her feel like this, like the world had tilted on its axis just to bring them together.

She lifted her head slightly, just enough to look at him.

God.

Even in sleep, he was beautiful. The sharp line of his jaw, relaxed now. The dark sweep of his lashes against his skin. The way his lips, usually so controlled, had softened into something almost vulnerable. A few strands of dark hair fell across his forehead, and she resisted the urge to brush them away, resisted moving at all, afraid to break the spell of this moment.

Her eyes drifted lower.

To his chest, broad and warm, smooth skin stretched over hard muscle that made her fingers itch to trace every contour. To the scar on his shoulder, pale against his skin, a reminder of how close she had come to losing him. To the way his muscles shifted slightly even in sleep, responding to some dream she could not see.

She bit her lip.

Then, impulsively, she leaned forward and pressed her teeth gently into the skin of his chest, just a soft little bite, barely there, a playful claiming.

He did not stir. Did not even twitch.

A quiet giggle escaped her, muffled against his skin.

She did it again, a little harder this time. Still nothing.

Her smile widened, pure mischief dancing in her eyes. He was really out, deep in that healing sleep the doctors had recommended, the kind that knitted bones and mended muscles.

Which meant...

She pressed her lips to his skin and licked.

Just a small, curious taste, the flat of her tongue against the warm salt of his chest.

Salty. Smooth. Him.

A shiver ran through her. She could do this, touch him, taste him, love him without any walls between them, and she could do anything she wanted with him.

Her cheeks flushed at her own bold thoughts, but she was smiling, biting her lip, utterly delighted.