Trapped in a Novel as the D-Class Alpha I Hated Most-Chapter 189: I Love Him Most Like This....
The morning light spills through the curtains in soft, golden streams, painting the room in shades of honey and warmth. Dust motes drift lazily in the illuminated air, suspended like tiny stars caught between sleep and waking.
The world outside is still waking up—distant traffic, the occasional bird, the hum of a city stretching after a long night.
I shift slowly, my body heavy and content in that way that only comes after a night of being completely, thoroughly loved. My face presses against something impossibly soft—warm skin, a steady heartbeat, the faint scent of red rose that clings to everything he touches.
A small, sleepy sound escapes my lips as I surface from the depths of sleep, my limbs tangled with his beneath the rumpled sheets.
There’s a familiar ache, low and deep, but I’ve grown used to it now. It’s not pain anymore—it’s something else.
A reminder. A claim. A promise whispered in the dark and sealed with skin on skin, with breath held and released, with the kind of trust that doesn’t need words.
I open my eyes slowly.
Deniz is there.
He’s lying beside me, awake already, his head propped on one hand, his dark eyes soft and fixed on my face like I’m something precious, something he’s still learning to believe is real.
His other arm is wrapped around my waist, pulling me close, and I can feel every point where our bodies meet—chest to chest, thigh to thigh, the slow rise and fall of his breathing.
Our bare skin is tangled together beneath the sheets, and we fit this way, like we were made for it. Like every night before this one was just practice for this moment.
I blink, still half-lost in the haze of waking. His face is the first thing I see every morning that matters, and the thought settles in my chest—warm, quiet, certain.
A soft smile spreads across my dry lips.
His hand reaches for my face, his fingers tracing the curve of my cheek with a tenderness that makes my heart ache.
"Good morning," he whispers, his voice rough with sleep.
My voice comes out softer than I intended, still catching on the edges of dreams.
"Morning." A pause. "When did you wake up? Why didn’t you wake me?"
His thumb brushes across my lower lip, slow and deliberate, watching the way it moves beneath his touch.
"You were sleeping so peacefully. I couldn’t bring myself to disturb you." A small, private smile.
"Did you sleep well?"
I wrap my arm around his waist and press my face deeper into his chest, breathing him in.
"Yes."
His fingers tangle in my messy silver hair, stroking gently, soothingly, working through the tangles with a patience I don’t possess.
"Do you want to sleep more?"
My voice is muffled against his skin. "Hmm. But I need to go to the office. I’ve been away for days."
He doesn’t miss a beat. "I handled everything. I moved your schedule." His hand continues its slow, gentle stroking, grounding me in this moment.
"Rest a little more."
I push back just enough to look up at him, one eyebrow raised. "My secretary is making decisions without my permission now?"
A slow, knowing smirk curves his lips. He leans closer, his breath warm against my mouth, and I can taste the morning on his skin.
"Your secretary," he murmurs, "is a little greedy." A pause.
"He wants his boss’s time. Just a little. For himself."
He presses a soft kiss to my lips—featherlight, almost teasing.
"Let’s spend the whole day together." Another kiss, deeper this time.
"Here. At home."
I smile against his mouth. "Okay. But in return..." I pull back slightly, my eyes narrowing with playful intent.
"Give me something."
His brow furrows, curious and wary all at once. "What do you want?"
My hand slides down his chest, fingers tracing the warm skin, the subtle ridges of muscle, the places I’ve learned by heart in the dark.
"I want a bite."
I circle his nipple with my fingertip, watching his breath catch in his throat.
"Here."
His eyes widen. His face flushes a deep, helpless pink that spreads from his cheeks to his ears to the base of his throat.
He looks away, suddenly shy in a way that makes my chest ache with tenderness.
"Zyren." His voice is strained, almost pleading.
"You know those are sensitive. I can’t—"
I pout dramatically, letting my lower lip jut out. "Just one."
He glances at me, then away, then back. His jaw works, caught between desire and embarrassment. Finally, quietly, "Fine."
A shameless smile spreads across my lips.
I pinch his nipple lightly—just a small pressure, just enough to make him gasp. His lips press together, his eyes flutter closed, his cheeks burn.
I watch him, this beautiful man, completely undone beneath my fingers, trusting me with every part of himself.
I love him most like this.
Soft. Open. Trusting.
I lean closer and lick his nipple gently.
His whole body trembles beneath me. A small, broken sound escapes his throat—barely audible, quickly swallowed. He’s so sensitive here, more than anywhere else, that even this small touch makes him shiver, makes his fingers grip my hair, desperate, holding on.
I open my mouth and suck, just a little. My teeth graze his skin—
My phone rings.
Loud. Insistent. Shattering the quiet like a stone through glass.
I pull back abruptly, blinking. Deniz’s eyes flutter open, dazed, breathless, his chest still heaving.
"Zyren..." His voice is hoarse.
"Your phone."
"Forget it."
He shakes his head, already reaching for the nightstand.
"What if it’s urgent? What if—"
I sigh and take the phone from his hand. The screen glows with an unknown number. I swipe to answer, my voice flat with annoyance.
"Hello?"
A familiar voice comes through the line, smooth and professional, perfectly measured.
"Good morning, Mr. Kael. This is Kaz. Mr. Moon’s secretary."
I go still.
Beside me, Deniz watches my face, his hand still tangled in my hair, his body still warm against mine.
The morning light is suddenly too bright. The warmth of the bed feels different now—charged, uncertain. And I don’t know why this call is making my heart beat faster, but it is.
Moon.
