Marilyn's POV
The early morning sun pierced through the heavy floor-to-ceiling windows, casting slanted rays of warm, golden light that enveloped the living room. The vibrant light radiated an undeniable heat, embracing every inch of the room.
In a hazy state, I sensed a presence beside me, as if a smoldering fire burned intensely, causing me to wake in a semi-conscious state, my body covered in a thin layer of perspiration.
Still groggy, my mind not fully awake, I reached out instinctively, searching for the air conditioning remote. However, as I shifted, an uneasy feeling washed over me. I realized there was someone next to me.
In an instant, my mind snapped into focus. I opened my eyes wide and saw myself clutching Lynn's waist, clinging to him almost instinctively. Lynn sat against the headboard, his hands spread out away from my body, unable to move, appearing somewhat vulnerable.
His eyes were closed, his breathing steady, as if he were fast asleep. But his neck displayed a rosy flush, and his breathing seemed slightly labored, with a sheen of perspiration covering his body, indicating a restless sleep.
The powerful scent of an Alpha wolf permeated the room, and his tension was noticeable even through the covers.
I stared at him, my thoughts momentarily frozen. Gradually, I mustered the strength to sit upright, contemplating whether to leave discreetly or awaken him. After a brief moment of consideration, I decided on the latter.
"Lynn," I called out.
He stirred slightly upon hearing my voice, his eyelids fluttering as if they were glued shut. Opening his eyes was a slow and deliberate process, indicating he was still not fully awake.
Lynn's unfocused gaze locked onto my face, transitioning from drowsiness to alertness. I noticed a momentary hesitation and a quick shift back, his lips moving as he called out, "Sister..."
A cloudy mist seemed to veil his dark eyes, his cheeks flushed, and his clothes damp with perspiration, clearly enduring the turmoil of the wolf's restlessness.
I didn't waste time with pointless questions like, "How did I end up in your bed?" Nor did I offer unnecessary apologies. Instead, I preemptively spoke, "Didn't you lock the door last night?"
Upon hearing my question, Lynn appeared visibly uncertain, unsure of where to place his hands. He even seemed to feel a sense of guilt, as if he had unintentionally neglected to lock the door, resulting in the current situation.
He stammered in his explanation, "I... I forgot..."
I nodded and responded with a nonchalant "Hmm."
The accidental act of sharing a bed seemed inconsequential to me, perhaps due to my composed facade as an older individual, but Lynn couldn't discern that.
"...Remember to lock the door next time," I stated, lifting the covers and preparing to get out of bed and leave.
But as my foot was about to touch the ground, Lynn grasped my arm firmly. It seemed instinctive, and I turned my head in surprise to look at him. He wore a dazed expression, as if he hadn't expected himself to act that way.
After a moment, Lynn snapped out of his reverie but didn't release his grip. Instead, he held onto me even tighter. The restless energy he carried seemed to seek comfort, and my own instincts responded to his touch.
He lifted his gaze, his eyes fixed on me, his grip unwavering. His dark eyes glistened with sweat, and his long, black eyelashes trembled ever so slightly in the ambient light. The air around us thickened, charged with intensity, and his longing was palpable. It was impossible to ignore.
I gently tried to withdraw my arm, sensing his reluctance to let go, but eventually, I gave up.
Looking at Lynn, I saw the young man in front of me merge with memories of the little boy from years ago. Suppressing the welling affection in my heart, I spoke, "What's the matter?"
Lynn's lips twitched, and after a moment, he pressed them together tightly. As a teenager who had barely experienced the full presence of his wolf for eighteen years, the sudden emergence of one upon his return home spoke volumes. It was clear what he needed, even more evident than the bewildered expression on his face.
I reached out to touch his forehead. However, as soon as my hand made contact, his eyes turned watery. His body temperature wasn't excessively high, but it was clear he couldn't continue like this for long.
Just as I was about to speak, Lynn softly called out, "Sis..." He seemed to struggle with his next words, lowering his eyelids then raising them again to meet my gaze. "Can you... help me?"
Beads of perspiration rolled down his face, and despite the slightly stiff tone, his voice carried a softness that revealed his difficulty in asking for comfort. His appearance had changed significantly. While he had been undeniably cute back then, he now possessed a serious countenance that could easily intimidate others.
Regardless of past or present, whenever I faced Lynn, I could sense his inherent obedience.
I understood what he was asking for, and after observing him for a while, I fulfilled his request by gently caressing his face. My slender fingers traced along his brow, glided over his jawline, and finally touched the damp side of his neck.
A low, throaty sound escaped from Lynn as he struggled to contain himself. He lifted his head, his Adam's apple moving under my gaze, and slowly returned to its original position.
My fingertips rested on Lynn's long, lean collarbone, and I withdrew my hand slightly, but he subtly leaned into my touch again. I put my hand back, softly asking, "Do you want to continue?"
Lynn blinked, his deep dark eyes fell on me, blushing, and slowly nodded with an inaudible "mmm."
He was inexperienced and unsure, seeking comfort rather than knowing how to ask. I did not move beyond the upper body; I only traced my hand between his cheek and the back of his neck.
The palm of my hand was damp from his perspiration, and my fingers ran through his hair beside his ear. He lowered his head and leaned subtly against my palm, seeking comfort instinctively.
The tension in his body was intense, and he craved reassurance. His posture shifted slightly, seeking closeness, his frame almost pressing against mine.
Lynn's body heat gradually rose, and the room felt thick with his scent. It was clear he was tense and longing, yet overwhelmed by his own emotions.
My fingers accidentally brushed against his shoulders, and he shivered, beads of sweat rolling down his forehead. He parted his lips slightly, whispering, "Sis... hard to..."
I looked at him, and a sudden clarity struck me, as if I understood why certain patterns repeated in families over generations, and how fragile emotions could drive decisions over time.