Married To My Ex's Brother, Reborn Miraculously
Chapter 110: The intimate night

Chapter 110: The intimate night

Anne’s breath caught in her throat as he stood again.

His hands brushed her arm up, fingertips soft as silk, making her shudder. For a moment, he said nothing, just searched her eyes — his gaze tender, serious, asking for a silent permission.

"You...Are you sure about this?" he asked hesitantly, fearing she would push him away or worse, she would run away from him.

Anne pursed her lips and then nodded. "I am sure," she whispered. "I want this. I want you."

That was all it took.

He cupped her cheek, his thumb stroking across her skin. Then he kissed her — slow, unhurried. Her lips parted slightly, welcoming him, and he deepened the kiss, just a bit, just enough to make her knees weaken.

He carried her to the bed, not rushed, never careless.

Anne lay beneath him, her pulse racing as Augustine hovered close, their eyes locked in a silent, electric exchange. The usual steadiness in his gaze had shifted, replaced by something deeper—an aching blend of desire, gentleness, and a kind of quiet awe that made her breath catch.

She shivered as his hand slowly glided to her breast, her eyes getting closed. He paused, pressing his forehead to hers.

"Tell me if you want me to stop," he whispered.

"I don’t want you to," she breathed, her voice trembling but certain.

He lowered his lips to hers in a kiss that was soft, patient—like he had all the time in the world to savor her. Her hands traced the contours of his chest, drawn to the strength beneath his skin, then tangled in his hair as her kiss deepened, need awakening in her touch.

"I’ve wanted you like this for so long," he said, his words laced with all the longing he had carried in silence.

Anne arched instinctively, her body responding to every press of Augustine’s lips as he trailed kisses along her neck, lingering just beneath her ear where her skin was most sensitive. A quiet gasp slipped past her lips as his hands explored her curves with reverence, tracing every inch — not with haste, but with awe.

He cupped her breast, his thumb circling the already sensitive peak; his touch was both tender and charged.

"You’re perfect," he murmured against her skin as his mouth moved lower, leaving behind a trail of heated kisses that made her shudder.

Anne clung to the sheets as his lips traveled across her stomach. She squirmed beneath him, anticipation coiling in her belly as he moved further south. A moan escaped the moment he settled between her thighs.

He gave her his full attention as if the world had narrowed to this moment alone.

"Augustine..." she breathed.

"I’m here," he whispered back. "You’re safe with me."

When he finally entered her, it was slow, deliberate. His eyes stayed on hers, watching every flicker of sensation cross her face.

Anne’s lashes fluttered closed, her lips parting as a deep, satisfied sigh left her. He filled her completely, each movement anchoring her to him in a way words never could.

"Anne." His voice was thick with desire. "You’re mine... and I never want to let you go."

Every thrust was deep and deliberate as if he was etching himself into her soul. He kissed her between movements — her mouth, her shoulder, the space over her heart.

She opened her eyes to look at him — truly look — and what she saw took her breath away. The powerful, stoic man she had fallen in love with was completely undone, loving her with every part of himself.

His pace quickened, urgency building between them. She clutched his shoulders as wave after wave of pleasure swept over her, and when he reached his peak, he buried his face in her neck, groaning her name.

They collapsed together, breathless and spent, their bodies tangled in the sheets and each other’s arms. For a long moment, there was only silence.

She rested her head on his chest, and he ran his fingers through her hair in slow, lazy strokes.

"Was it okay?" he asked quietly.

Anne lifted her gaze to his and smiled — soft, luminous, still flushed. "It was perfect."

Augustine kissed her temple and pulled her closer, wrapping her tightly in his embrace. "I love you," he said quietly.

Anne’s eyes welled with tears as she tucked her face against his chest, her heart full. "I love you too," she breathed, knowing that things between them had changed forever after this moment.

~~~~~~~~~

Jeanne paced the grand hallway, her fingers nervously twisting together as she glanced repeatedly between the ticking clock and the closed front door. Her heart was filled with restless anticipation, silently urging the door to swing open and reveal Gabriel.

But the silence stretched on, and with every second that passed, her unease deepened.

A maid approached quietly, bowing with the grace of routine. "Madam," she said gently, "dinner is ready. Shall I bring it out for you now?"

Jeanne didn’t even look at her. She waved her off impatiently. "No... I’ll wait for Gabriel."

It was an unusual response—Jeanne was not one to delay meals for anyone, not even her husband. She rarely did she wait up for him. But tonight was different. She needed to tell him something urgently.

The maid raised her brows slightly, surprised. "But Madam, it’s already past nine. You haven’t taken your medicine yet. And no one knows when Sir will return. Perhaps you should eat first."

Jeanne shook her head, clearly distracted. She was too disturbed to think about eating anything. "He said he’d be home early tonight," she muttered. "He’ll be here any minute. Just... leave me alone."

The maid hesitated, concern flickering in her eyes, but she obeyed, retreating quietly.

Jeanne sank into the sofa, her posture weary, her thoughts tangled from the stormy encounter she had had with Tania that afternoon. She had gone there with a clear purpose—to warn the girl to stay away from her son. But what she had learned instead had left her shaken to the core: Tania was pregnant with Denis’s child.

Her mind had been spiraling ever since. The timing couldn’t have been worse.

Gabriel had been planning to secure a respectable marriage between Denis and Megan. But this pregnancy could unravel everything.

Jeanne glanced at the clock again, anxiety gnawing at her. "Where is he?" she murmured under her breath. "I told him to come home early... why is he taking so long?"

Desperate, she reached for her phone on the center table, her fingers just brushing it when the front door creaked open and Gabriel walked in.

She jumped to her feet, abandoning the phone, relief flooding her face. "Finally! You’re back," she said, hurrying toward him. "I’ve been waiting—there is something important—"

Gabriel cut her off sharply, "Didn’t I tell you not to call me at work? That was one of the first things I made clear when we got married. Or have you conveniently forgotten?"

Jeanne blinked, taken aback. "No, I haven’t, but this was—"

"I don’t have time for your dramatic dinner setups," he interrupted coldly, his voice rising with irritation. "I had to reschedule a critical meeting because of this little stunt. Don’t do it again. If you’re bored, consider going shopping and attending kitty parties. Host your friends. Go gossip over wine. But don’t drag me into it when I’m busy working."

He pulled at his tie in frustration, loosening it as he walked past her, completely dismissing her presence. "I still have things to finish tonight."

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