Page 181 of The Villainess Chose Naps Over Death Flags

"Caspian," she breathed.

He kissed her again, deeper this time. Passionate. His hands moved over her body—her back, her hips, her thighs.

Caroline made a soft sound against his mouth, her fingers threading through his hair.

The kiss grew heated, desperate. Seven days apart. Seven days of missing each other, wanting each other.

Caspian stood abruptly, lifting Caroline with him. Water sluiced off their bodies as he stepped out of the pool.

"Caspian!" Caroline laughed, wrapping her arms around his neck. "We're dripping everywhere!"

"Don't care," Caspian said, already carrying her toward their bedchamber. "Need you. Now."

"The bed—"

"Will dry," Caspian finished.

He laid her on their bed—the bed they now shared, in the chambers that were truly theirs—and followed her down.

Caroline pulled him into another kiss.

"I love you," she whispered against his lips.

"I love you too," Caspian said. "Let me show you how much."

Caspian kissed her slowly, reverently, as though she were something infinitely precious. His lips moved over hers with gentle pressure, tasting, savoring, while his hands cradled her face. Caroline sighed into the kiss, her fingers sliding into his damp silver hair, pulling him closer.

He shifted his weight carefully, mindful of the gentle curve of her belly between them. One hand trailed down her side, tracing the swell of her hip, the soft skin of her thigh. When he settled more fully between her legs, she felt the hard length of him pressing against her, warm and insistent, but he made no move to rush.

“Caspian,” she whispered, arching slightly toward him.

He answered with another slow kiss, trailing his lips along her jaw, down the sensitive column of her throat. His mouth lingered at the hollow beneath her ear, drawing a soft gasp from her. Lower still, he pressed open-mouthed kisses across her collarbone, then to the full, sensitive curve of her breast. When he closed his lips gently around one peak, she moaned quietly, fingers tightening in his hair.

He took his time there, lavishing each breast with tender attention—soft licks, gentle suction—until she was trembling beneath him, breath coming in shallow waves.

Only then did his hand drift lower, sliding between her thighs with careful reverence. He parted her slowly, fingers gliding through her warmth, finding her already slick and ready. One finger slipped inside her, then two, curling gently as his thumb brushed over the small, sensitive bud above. Caroline’s hips lifted toward his touch, a quiet plea.

He watched her face the entire time, jade eyes dark with love and desire, adjusting every stroke to the soft sounds she made. When her breathing grew ragged and her body began to tighten, he kept the rhythm steady, gentle, coaxing her toward release with endless patience.

She came with a soft cry, back arching, inner walls fluttering around his fingers as pleasure rolled through her in warm, lingering waves. Caspian kissed her through it—forehead, cheeks, lips—murmuring quiet words of love against her skin.

When the tremors faded, he withdrew his hand and shifted again, guiding himself to her entrance. He pressed forward slowly, eyes locked on hers, giving her every moment to adjust. The stretch was familiar now, perfect, and she welcomed him with a sigh, legs wrapping loosely around his hips.

He began to move in long, unhurried strokes—deep, but gentle, each thrust a silent declaration. His hands framed her face, thumbs brushing her cheeks as he kissed her again and again. The pace stayed tender, almost languid, as though they had all the time in the world.

Caroline’s hands roamed his back, tracing the lines of muscle, the faint ridges of old scars. She whispered his name like a prayer, meeting each roll of his hips with her own.

The pleasure built slowly this time, warm and steady, until it crested again—soft, rolling, drawing a quiet moan from her lips as she clung to him. Caspian followed moments later, burying himself deep and stilling as he spilled inside her with a low, shuddering groan. His forehead rested against hers, breath mingling as the last pulses faded.

They stayed joined, wrapped around each other, hearts slowing together. Caspian pressed a kiss to her temple, then her cheek, then her lips—soft, lingering.

“I love you,” he whispered against her mouth.

Caroline smiled, tears of simple happiness gathering in her eyes. “I love you too. Welcome home.”

Chapter 39

The Invitation