Roman and Julienne's heart desire-Chapter 184: Wrapped in His Regret, Held by His Love

"For hurting you," Roman said quietly. "For... marking you this much. For holding you too tightly. And for last night being too hard—"

Julie’s face exploded with heat again.

"Roman!" she hissed and immediately hid under the blanket again.

Inside the blanket, Julie stayed completely still for a moment — only her breathing moved, rising and falling in small, shaky waves that made the fabric over her chest quiver.

Her fingers hovered just above her skin.

Not touching.

Not yet.

She was scared to feel anything again.

Her heart thudded loudly in her chest — she could practically hear it echoing inside the warm little space she hid herself in.

On the outside, Roman waited.

He didn’t rush her. Didn’t tug the blanket again. Didn’t push or tease or speak.

He just watched.

His eyes softened into something quiet, patient, and unbearably gentle.

The kind of look only someone who truly, deeply cared could hold.

Inside the blanket, Julie finally gathered a breath.

Slow.

Unsteady.

Barely held together.

She lowered her hand to her thigh first, brushing only the tips of her fingers across her skin — testing the sensitivity.

Her breath hitched immediately.

Even that light touch made her feel the faint throb under her skin, a warmth mixed with soreness.

Her fingers traced upward, following a curved mark where his hand had once held her tightly.

The memory flashed in her mind.

His fingers.

His weight.

His voice whispering against her neck.

Her cheeks burned violently.

She squeezed her eyes shut, biting her lip — and yet her hand continued wandering across her skin, discovering every small mark and every new sensation left behind.

Her breath trembled again as she moved lower, inch by inch.

The soreness deepened.

A sting pulsed.

Her thighs tensed.

Before she even touched the center of her discomfort, the pain shivered upward like a warning.

"Ah—" she whispered, her voice tiny.

Outside the blanket, Roman leaned forward immediately.

"Julie?" His voice was soft but urgent. "Is it stabbing? Is it too sharp? Tell me how it feels, love."

Julie poked her head out of the blanket slowly — like a timid kitten — eyes glossy, cheeks glowing red, hair sticking to her forehead from the trapped warmth.

She looked... helpless.

And Roman’s heart clenched so hard it almost hurt.

She swallowed, her voice trembling.

"It’s... sore. And tight. And it burns when I... when I try to move."

Her throat bobbed.

"I don’t know what is happening to me..."

Roman reached forward instantly, placing one hand behind her back, pulling her gently into a more supported sitting position.

His palm splayed across her lower back, warm and steady, grounding her.

"Love," he murmured, brushing his nose lightly against her forehead, "nothing is wrong with you. Your body is just reacting to last night. It’s normal."

Julie’s fingers clutched the blanket again.

"Normal?" she whispered, looking up at him as if begging for reassurance.

Roman nodded.

Slow.

Certain.

"You gave me your first time, Julie," he said quietly, voice low with emotion he couldn’t hide. "It’s natural to feel pain afterward. Your body wasn’t used to mine."

Julie’s blush deepened, almost scarlet now.

She lowered her eyes to her lap, shy and overwhelmed.

"But it hurts so much..." she confessed in a tiny voice.

Roman cupped her cheek again, tilting her face up so she would look at him.

His thumb brushed away another tear that escaped — a tear she didn’t even know had slipped down.

"Then I’m right here," he whispered.

"And I’m not leaving your side until you feel better. Not even for a second."

His voice dropped lower, tender but filled with guilt.

"And I’m sorry, love."

Julie’s lips parted slightly.

She blinked up at him.

"Why are you sorry?" she asked softly.

Roman’s expression shifted — a mix of regret, tenderness, and deep affection tightening in his chest.

"I didn’t mean to be that rough," he said. "I lost myself in you. I didn’t realize how tightly I held you. How deeply I moved. How much your body would feel afterward."

She flinched slightly at the reminder — not from fear, but from the visceral memory rushing back again.

Her nails ghosted across her own thigh under the blanket, touching another purple-shaded mark.

"You... you held me that hard?" she whispered.

Roman swallowed — his Adam’s apple bobbing.

His voice dropped, rough and quiet.

"I loved you that hard."

Julie’s breath caught.

Her lashes fluttered.

Her lips parted.

But before she could speak, another pulse of pain struck through her — sharp and sudden — and she instinctively curled forward with a soft wince, clutching the blanket.

Roman reacted immediately.

He wrapped both arms around her, pulling her into his chest, one hand sliding protectively behind her head.

"Easy," he whispered against her hair. "Easy, Julie. I’ve got you. I’ve got you."

His voice trembled slightly with how much it hurt him to see her hurt.

Julie’s eyes squeezed shut, her forehead resting against his warm skin as she tried to breathe through the sensation.

Her voice cracked.

"I feel like my body is broken..."

Roman shook his head, kissing the top of her head gently.

"You’re not broken," he breathed. "You’re mine. And if I caused your pain... then I will be the one to ease it."

Julie’s fingers slowly loosened around the blanket.

Her breathing steadied.

But her cheeks were still red, her thighs still tense, her lower body still throbbing faintly.

Roman pulled back slightly, searching her eyes.

"Talk to me, love," he whispered. "Tell me everything you feel."

Julie looked up, vulnerable and pink, her voice barely holding itself together.

"I feel..."

She swallowed hard.

"...embarrassed."

Roman’s lips curved into the faintest, most tender smile he had ever worn.

"You don’t have to be," he whispered, brushing his knuckles along her cheek.

"Everything about last night was beautiful. Everything about you is beautiful."

Her chest tightened. Her eyes softened. Her breath trembled.

And without thinking, she leaned into him — forehead against his, their noses brushing.

The pain didn’t vanish. The embarrassment didn’t fade.

But the moment softened.

Warmth returned.

Safety wrapped around her like his arms.

Roman exhaled shakily.

"Love," he murmured, "I’m sorry."

Julie blinked once, slowly.

She lifted her hand — still trembling slightly — and placed it on his chest.

Her voice was soft.

"I know.

"Come, let me bathe you," he murmured, his voice a low rumble filled with guilt and tenderness.

Julie froze.

Her eyes widened instantly, lashes fluttering like startled wings.

"Iyyyye—!" The tiny sound slipped from her throat before she could stop it, a shocked squeak that perfectly expressed how completely taken aback she was.

Bath her?

Like... really bathe her?

The heat rushed so violently to her cheeks, it felt like her face was dipped in boiling water.

Even though Roman had teased her many times about "bathing his wife someday," she always assumed it was just that—teasing.

Playful, flirty, harmless.

But the way he was looking at her now—serious eyes, soft voice, guilty expression—told her this was no joke.

No flirtation.

He meant every word.

Julie swallowed hard, her fingers curling instinctively against the sheet.

"Are you serious?" she asked, staring at him as though he had grown two heads.

Her voice trembled between embarrassment and disbelief.

Roman nodded without hesitation, lifting her with care as though she were made of delicate glass.

"I said I would make it stop," he replied softly, brushing a thumb along her temple. "So why wouldn’t I bathe you to ease the soreness you feel, hmm?"

His voice dipped low at the end—heavy with apology, heavy with regret—and Julie felt her heart twist.

His eyes held so much guilt that it almost pierced her.

Roman continued, his tone raw, honest, and thick with regret.

"Had it been I didn’t lose control yesterday..." His jaw tightened, lashes lowering as shame flickered across his expression.

"Had it been I didn’t take you so roughly without thinking—without remembering you’re a virgin—none of this would be happening."

Julie’s breath hitched.

Her face grew hotter, cheeks burning a deeper, richer red—so red it felt like someone had placed her inside a furnace and turned the dial to 100 degrees Celsius.

Still, she listened.

Her heart wouldn’t let her look away.

Roman’s thumb brushed the small of her back unconsciously, his touch feather-light, as though he feared hurting her again.

"You needed time to adjust to me," he whispered, voice thickening at the edges. "To my size... your body wasn’t ready yet."

His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard.

"And if I hadn’t been so caught up... if I hadn’t lost myself..." His brows knitted, pain glimmering in his eyes. "I could’ve bathed you last night—when you were too tired to lift even a finger."

His voice broke slightly.

"I should’ve taken better care of you. I should’ve protected you... even from myself."

Julie’s breath trembled as she stared at him—her strong, powerful husband—who now looked so heartbreakingly soft, remorseful, almost fragile.

His eyes lifted to hers again, warm and filled with soul-deep sincerity.

"My heart’s desire wouldn’t be hurting right now," he whispered, fingertips brushing her waist in a feather-light apology. "You wouldn’t be feeling pain because of me."

Julie felt her chest tighten, her embarrassment sinking beneath a flood of tenderness.

Roman’s expression—his guilt, his affection, the depth of his devotion—hit her harder than any touch could.

He wasn’t just holding her.

He was carrying his regret.

He was carrying his love.

He was carrying her.