Isabella arched into his touch, her breath hitching as his fingers explored, slipping beneath the fabric to caress her breasts. She didn't correct him; the name was a shield, allowing her to surrender without vulnerability. Her own hands roamed lower, unbuckling his belt with practiced ease, the metallic clink echoing in the room. "Shh, Henry. Just feel this. Let it take the pain away." Her voice was a husky whisper, laced with empathy and her own rising need. The physicality was a lifeline, pulling her from the abyss of Logan's betrayal—his whispered plans to kill her post-vows, to claim her empire as his own.
Henry's pants joined the growing pile, his arousal evident, straining against his boxers. He pushed her gently onto the bed, the mattress dipping under their weight. "Eliana, please... say you want me. Say I'm worth it." His words slurred, but the emotion was raw, his warm eyes pleading even in the dim light.
