Watching the beautiful sight before him, James unconsciously swallowed hard.
The look in his eyes suddenly grew intense.
Without hesitation, he mended his palm over his wife's voluptuous left breast, feeling the softness of her skin beneath the fine linen robe and the racing heartbeat pulsing right against his touch.
The gesture felt like an absolute claim of ownership, yet it was executed with such tenderness that it made the blood in his veins boil far more violently than ever before.
James slowly leaned his face closer.
Before losing himself any deeper in Irene's intoxicating spell, he whispered a compliment filled with pure adoration.
"You are so beautiful."
Hearing the praise, Irene quickly turned her face to the side.
A wave of embarrassment struck her without mercy, and she fought hard to keep from showing how utterly flustered she was in front of her husband.
There was no way she would ever admit it now—that simple words like those could still make her heart race so wildly, even though they had been together for over a decade.
Every unexpected touch from James caught her breath, forcing out soft, muffled whimpers that lingered in her throat.
In her heart, a simple hope surfaced once more: hopefully, Karina wouldn't interrupt them again.
Having such a silly thought in the middle of an intimate moment like this made her almost laugh at herself.
However, her focus shattered the instant James's lips began to explore.
"Ahh... gentle..." Irene whispered softly.
James completely ignored her quiet protest.
A thrilling, tingling sensation surged down her spine as his lips trailed along the sensitive curve of her neck.
Irene's hands slowly rose, her fingers gripping tightly into his hair as his dominant side took over completely.
She clamped her teeth together, trying to stifle any sound that might drive her husband's feral nature even further.
"Ughhh."
James's lips ruthlessly shifted downward, branding every inch of skin above her chest with intoxicating, breathless kisses.
As if unsatisfied with just that, he delivered soft, gentle bites along her collarbone, leaving her gasping somewhere between the rush of pleasure, ache, and pure ecstasy.
"Argghhh!"
Irene's body writhed slightly in submission, but being pinned beneath James's heavy frame made it nearly impossible to move.
Her hands, which had been buried in his hair, dropped to his broad chest, attempting to push him away.
Yet, like an immovable stone wall, James didn't budge a single inch.
Instead, he buried his face deeper, leaving warm trails of his possessive touch all over her.
Gradually, her resistance lost its strength.
Irene's fingers unconsciously began to roam, turning her playful rejection into a soft caress over his sculpted muscles.
She admired the firm contours of his abs beneath his shirt and the broad chest she always leaned on.
It felt as though every single touch tonight was brand new.
They had been married for seventeen years, and for just as long, her emerald-green eyes had admired his physique countless times without ever growing tired of it.
Amidst her hazy thoughts, currently chaotic from the overwhelming waves of pleasure, a mischievous idea suddenly sparked.
Her thumb and forefinger moved swiftly, delivering a sharp, playful pinch to her husband's chest.
James jolted in surprise, stopping his actions instantly.
He slowly lifted his face away from her.
His obsidian eyes, dark and deep, locked onto his wife's heavily flushed face.
Her breath was coming in short gasps, and the corners of her eyes glistened slightly with arousal.
"I need to pay you back for that pinch, sweetheart," James whispered, his voice deep and raspy.
Understanding the hidden meaning behind his words, Irene turned her face away again.
She knew exactly what would happen next, and to her, replying to James's teasing with words always ended up being too embarrassing.
But James had no intention of letting his wife hide.
"Take off my clothes, Irene."
Irene was forced to look back at him, giving him an adorable, bashful glare.
"Me? Don't you usually do that yourself?"
James smirked slightly.
"Because you're my wife. Besides, this isn't the first time you've stripped me, is it? On a few past occasions, you even went as far as tearing the buttons off."
"Enough, James! Fine, I'll do it!" Irene cut him off quickly, her face burning hotter as the memories of their wild past were brought up.
With what little courage she had left, Irene reached out with slightly trembling hands.
One by one, she slowly unbuttoned his shirt.
Moments later, his upper body was fully exposed, devoid of any shield.
Irene immediately hid her face against the pillow.
She truly couldn't bring herself to look at the victorious smirk on his face right now.
But a very familiar, heavy voice forced her attention back to the man she loved so deeply.
"Do you need me to help remove your clothes too?"
"No need, I can do it myself," Irene replied defensively.
James chuckled softly.
He, of course, gave her no room to move.
The question wasn't a genuine offer; it was just an absurd joke to break the tension in the middle of an escalating situation.
He gently pinned both of Irene's wrists down beside her head.
His lips then dropped, capturing her cherry lips in a deep, passionate kiss.
The embrace was long and intense, demanding all of their breath until both were panting heavily.
As their lips parted slowly, a thin string of saliva briefly connected them before breaking in the air.
James stared deeply into the emerald-green eyes beneath him.
"Irene."
"What?" she whispered, breathless.
"You're beautiful."
This time, Irene didn't turn away.
It was as if that single word held a magical pull, forcing her to keep staring at his face from such a close distance.
Deep down, her feminine ego craved his praise.
She wanted to hear more.
"And?"
"Mesmerizing," James answered, pressing a fleeting kiss to the corner of her lips.
Irene arched an eyebrow, throwing a playful challenge.
"Is that all?"
"To me, you are far more beautiful than anything else this world has to offer," James replied, his voice dropping into a low, earnest murmur.
"Are you lying?" Irene teased, a mischievous glint dancing in her eyes.
"Do you need me to prove it right now?"
With a shy, knowing smile, Irene countered, "Shouldn't I be the one in charge of verifying whether my husband is speaking the truth or not?"
James smirked.
His gaze drifted downward for a split second, momentarily captivated by the tantalizing silhouette hidden beneath her clothes.
The urge to completely strip her of her attire burned fiercely within his chest, yet he somehow managed to rein it in.
He did not want to force her like he used to.
He decided to play along with his wife's little game.
"Have it your way, sweetheart."
"In that case, I need some space. Move away from me a little."
James hesitated for a brief moment.
But before his pride could object, he ultimately gave in to her demand, shifting his weight back and giving Irene the freedom she asked for.
With the heavy weight of his body lifted, Irene moved effortlessly.
She slowly sat up on the bed.
In a deliberately agonizing, tantalizingly slow motion, she shed her clothes piece by piece, until not a single thread remained to hide her breathtaking beauty upon the sheets.
Glancing toward James, Irene could instantly feel the sheer heat radiating from him.
Her husband's Adam's apple bobbed continuously as he swallowed hard, trying to maintain his composure.
From the intense, burning depth of his obsidian eyes alone, she knew he was right on the edge, looking as though he were ready to pounce on her like a predator.
Seeing him start to lean forward, she raised a hand in the air, giving him a silent warning to stay exactly where he was.
A smug, subtle smile curved her lips.
"Am I beautiful?"
James nodded responsively, his eyes locked onto her without a single second of distraction.
"Incredibly so."
"My face... or my breasts?" Irene provoked, her tone dripping with casual seduction.
"Both."
Irene burst into a rich, melodic laugh—a sound that fell upon James's ears with an undeniably sexy undertone.
"Both? Or... the more private depths down below?"
Completely oblivious to the trap being laid out for him, James answered the moment his eyes caught sight of her private silhouette, "Everything."
Irene's victorious smile widened.
She tilted her head slightly, delivering the ultimate checkmate.
"Then choose now: my body... or me? Pick only one, James. No more 'everything' or 'both'."
James froze instantly.
His adult mind suddenly ground to a screeching halt.
Somehow, he had truly fallen into his own wife's domestic trap, with no way out.
James tried to think rationally, racking his brain for a satisfying, acceptable answer.
However, he couldn't take his eyes off the stunning beauty before him.
His wife's full breasts, with their alluring pink nipples.
He then looked down, toward the lower part of Irene's abdomen, where a far more sensual sight nearly made him lose his concentration.
He swallowed hard again, eager to press his lips and tongue against that spot.
He clenched his fists tight, fighting the wild urge to simply take her.
He didn't want to repeat the mistakes of his past; he had to be patient until his wife finished her game and gave him permission.
But... witnessing her entire form exposed so openly right in front of him, his remaining sanity was truly pushed to its absolute limit.
It wasn't that he couldn't control his desires, but his sheer rationality made it impossible to choose the right option.
He had no idea which choice to make.
He knew his wife all too well; no matter what he chose, Irene would undoubtedly demand an explanation.
Women could be incredibly clever like that.
If he chose "You," she could easily corner him again, asking, "Then what about my body? Is it no longer attractive to you?"
If this were any other time, James was confident he could weave a satisfying, silver-tongued response.
But right now, his mind was ablaze.
His primal instincts screamed at him to simply pounce and dominate.
Yet, the warning gesture of her raised hand forced him to hold back.
Instead of finding the right words, James found himself slipping down into the dark memories he despised.
A fatal transgression from years ago that had once dragged their relationship down to its absolute nadir—a fracture that had pushed their marriage to the very brink of divorce.
If it hadn't been for the presence and intervention of their children, James didn't even know if their marriage would have survived.
James hated that memory, just as much as the agonizing trauma of his life-and-death battle against their eldest daughter.
It was a dark, suffocating memory of the time he had forced his desires upon Irene, taking her against her will.
It was utterly wretched, a black stain that made him desperately wish he could turn back the hands of time.
Ever since that cursed night, he vowed never to touch alcohol again.
He purged every single drop of liquor from the rewards given by the system, completely clearing it out of his system inventory, viewing the substance as nothing more than destructive filth.
Even now, the memory felt raw against his skin—the memory of Irene weeping, pushing his body away as he continuously forced himself onto her under the heavy influence of drink.
The alcohol had blinded him back then, stripping away his empathy and sense as a husband.
He had tried to flee from his past traumas by drowning them in liquor, but ironically, the woman who always stood by his side became the ultimate victim of his sheer stupidity.
James remembered it with absolute clarity.
That was why he now did his best to understand the weight and seriousness behind every single word his wife spoke.
Their children had become the bridge between them, meticulously mending a love that had once fractured and grown distant.
He knew he was far from a perfect husband.
From what he recalled of life back on Earth and the wisdom of those around him, he understood that marriage was never as flawless as the childish fantasies of a man starved for affection.
Reality was often bitter.
Problems arrived in relentless waves, and a harrowing past pursued him without mercy.
But the most sickening part for James was the reality that he had once taken all that frustration out on Irene—the very woman he loved more than life itself.
The sudden onslaught of that brief memory instantly extinguished his burning desire.
Unbidden, a solitary tear slipped down his cheek, tracing a path across his strained face.
James slowly turned his face away.
He completely forgot about the playful answer he was supposed to give to win his wife's game.
Atop the sheets that had been burning with passion just moments ago, the atmosphere between them abruptly plummeted into a heavy, suffocating silence.