Willow was still sick, so naturally, there was no way for them to be intimate.
She went back to bed to rest.
The sound of running water drifted from the bathroom. Julian was taking a shower. The steady stream was oddly soothing, and before she knew it, Willow had drifted off to sleep.
Even in her dreams, Julian refused to leave her alone.
When she woke up again, it was already 1:00 am.
The bedroom was dimly lit by a single reading lamp. Julian was sitting against the headboard, reading through some important documents. His features were striking. Even in a simple white robe, he looked effortlessly refined. Willow found herself stealing a few extra glances.
The subtle shift in the bed caught Julian’s attention. He lowered his gaze to her. “You’re awake?”
Willow nodded. “What time is it?”
Julian set down his documents, leaned back slightly, and wrapped an arm around her delicate shoulders. His voice carried a rare hint of warmth. “1:00 am.”
She wasn’t used to this kind of tenderness. She used the excuse of going to the bathroom to avoid their intimacy.
Julian didn’t call her out on it. He simply let her go.
Back in bed, Willow found that she couldn’t fall asleep again.
She didn’t dare toss and turn, afraid of disturbing Julian. But he noticed her restlessness. He switched on the reading lamp and stretched his arm toward the nightstand to retrieve something from inside.
“If you can’t sleep, I’ll read to you. It might help.” It was rare for him to be this considerate.
Julian pulled Willow into his chest, letting her rest against him. Her long hair spilled over his body like silk, creating an intimate scene neither of them commented
- on.
Julian glanced down at her. Unable to resist, he pressed a soft kiss to her lips.
Although Willow had recovered, she didn’t have the strength to resist. Besides, she was too tired to struggle.
julian’s nose brushed against hers as he murmured, “Alright, I’m starting now.”
Willow closed her eyes, treating his voice like a lullaby. This had nothing to do with love.
His voice was refined and rich like the timbre of a fine cello. With its deliberate depth, it was irresistibly alluring.
Holding her close, he chuckled softly. “What? A love letter doesn’t count as a book?”
Not only that, he lowered his head to hers, his voice deep and slow as he read aloud her past confessions. Each word was laced with a teasing edge that sent tingles down her spine.
When Julian finished, silence filled the room. Their breaths mingled in the quiet, both lost in the memories of what once was.
Outside, the crescent moon hung low over the trees.
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