The Dragon's Heart: Unspoken Passion-Chapter 107: Holding You

It was a kiss that lingered, deepening only when she gently leaned into it. Ilaria’s breath stuttered against his mouth, her uncertainty folding into trust with every quiet press and every shared warmth.

For so long she had loved him quietly, loving him in patience, loving him while unsure if she was allowed to. And now, the steady weight of his hands and the certainty of his lips on hers made something inside her cave in with relief. Because this was not a kindness, or a duty, or a husband’s formal affection.

He was holding her like... like he loved her as well.

Levan breathed her in, one hand cupping the back of her neck, the other bracing the table beneath her as if he refused to let her carry even her own weight. Ilaria moaned into his mouth as she unconsciously grind herself against him.

That... was when he felt it.

The want was there, sharp, insistent and terrifyingly easy, but so was her vulnerability. So was her shaking breath. So was the realization that this was her first time being held like this, her first time touching anyone with intention.

That made his desire feel too big and too greedy if left unchecked.

So he slowed.

Not abruptly. Not like a correction. He simply softened the kiss, letting it linger instead of devour, letting her breathe into it instead of drown in it. His thumb brushed her jaw, guiding her pace, teaching her unspoken gentleness rather than hunger.

"Slow down, you’re breathing too hard," he whispered against her lips, not as a warning, but as a promise.

Her chest rose sharply. She slowly opened her eyes and looked at him, startled and almost apologetic, but he shook his head just barely, his forehead resting against hers.

"You choose the pace," he reassured. "I’ll follow. Always."

He kissed her again, not to take more but to show her that she was worth being waited for.

He swept his tongue lightly on her lower lip, causing her to shiver. And then he lingered, feeling a swell of tenderness in his chest and a fluttering in his stomach. He savoured the moment for a few more precious seconds before gently pulling back, their lips parting with a soft ’pop’.

Ilaria could barely register her own emotions when he moved to press a softer kiss at the corner of her mouth, then another along her cheek, as if learning her face by heart. She inhaled shakily, unsure whether to melt or hide. Every small touch made her feel seen in a way that felt too much and yet not enough.

He had kissed her face before. Those brief, fleeting, almost absent-minded gestures in quiet moments. But those had always felt like passing affection, comforting yet distant. This time, each brush of his lips carried intention, reverence, and an almost painful attentiveness as though he was memorizing her.

Her fingers had bunched tightly in his shirt without her noticing, undoing the few buttons on his collar. Levan glanced down at them briefly, then back at her.

"You’re holding on like I might disappear," he remarked, amused.

She froze, startled, and immediately began to loosen her grip. But before she could, his hand suddenly covered hers.

"Keep holding," he whispered, looking deep into her eyes. "I don’t mind." 𝘧𝓇ℯℯ𝑤ℯ𝘣𝓃ℴ𝓋𝑒𝑙.𝑐𝘰𝑚

Her breath hitched. She tightened her grip again, this time not out of fear but choice.

Satisfied, Levan hummed and traced a slow line behind her ear with his fingers, his thumb brushing her cheek. Then he pressed a small tentative kiss against her ear. His touch never rushed as he explored her gently, like she was something fragile and entirely new.

Her eyes fluttered half-closed at the warmth of his hand settling against the side of her throat, not gripping, just holding her there and grounding her. She let out a soft moan as she felt him nibbling her earlobe, causing her to feel ticklish and hot at the same time.

Levan felt her tense and soften all at once, and he let his lips trail downward in a slow, searching sweep. He pressed a feather-light kiss just beneath her ear, then another along the curve where her neck met her shoulder.

His mouth brushed her skin like he was following a map only he could read, exploring the places where she shivered, where she leaned closer without meaning to. His thumb stroked her throat in a quiet, grounding rhythm, as if silently reminding her that she was safe in his hands.

She tightened her legs around him. The sensation of his tongue crept up through her in a way that made her stomach flutter and her chest tighten. It was almost uncomfortable, but it was not unpleasant. If anything, it made her ache in a way she did not fully understand.

It was like a delicious sort of longing that whispered she wanted more even as every rational part of her mind told her to pause.

"Still with me?" he asked softly, his warm breath tickling her ear.

She nodded, barely, her voice caught somewhere in her breath. "Yes..."

"Then breath," he said, and she deliberately exhaled.

His other hand slid from the back of her neck down to her shoulder, fingers curling just enough for her to feel held and not claimed. Slowly, he tugged at the neckline of her nightgown, letting it slip down her shoulder to expose more of her skin, testing the waters.

Instinctively, Ilaria gasped and pulled it back in place, her hand clutching the fabric as though it had betrayed her. Her cheeks flamed hot, eyes darting up in confusion, because even she did not understand why she reacted.

Levan had seen her bare before, tended to her without hesitation, and she had not been this shy then. But now... now her pulse hopped wildly, the moment thick with a different kind of awareness as a flutter of unease twisted through her stomach.

"I... I don’t know what to do..." she whispered, guilt flickering across her face like she had done something wrong.

Levan stilled. His gaze attentive and far from disappointment. Then he leaned forward just enough to press a single kiss to her shoulder, a touch so light it could have been mistaken for a breath. Afterward, he gently adjusted her gown back into place, covering her as though he were tucking something precious away.

"That’s alright," he said. "We don’t have to do anything you don’t want."

Her head buzzed. And for a split second, she almost wanted to apologize when he spoke.

"Look at you," he sighed, his voice low and teasing as he looked at her affectionately. "All confused and flustered... when you were the one who kissed me first."

Ilaria blinked, cheeks burning hotter. "I... I only— It was just a peck. You... you were the one who—"

He leaned closer, letting his breath ghost over her ear. "Was I now?" he teased, a hint of rare mischief in his otherwise warm gaze. "I seem to remember responding rather... enthusiastically."

She pressed her lips together, flustered. "I... I didn’t mean for it to go like that..."

Levan chuckled softly, the sound warm against her. "No?" He tilted his head, letting his lips brush hers in a feather-light kiss, just enough to make her shiver. "I think you did. More than you realized."

Ilaria gasped lightly, shaking her head, trying to insist, but the flutter in her stomach betrayed her words. "I... I didn’t! Really!"

Levan just smiled, that wry, confident smile that made her body weak. "Perhaps. But either way, you started this."

Her breath caught at his smile, at how impossibly close he was, close enough that she could feel the ghost of smile on his lips when he whispered. It was such a wonderful thing to think about. Because never did she thought her stoic and brooding husband would ever be this... loving.

Ilaria swallowed hard. "...You didn’t stop me."

"It’s because I didn’t want to. There, I admit."

Her heart stumbled. She stared up at him wide-eyed, and he held her gaze as if he was not afraid of anything in the world except misunderstanding her.

For a moment neither of them moved, their breaths mingling, their bodies warm and close. Then, as if realizing how tense her shoulders still were, Levan slowly eased his hands from her and straightened a little, giving her space without stepping away.

"Aria," he said quietly, resting his hand on the table beside her instead, "you don’t have to rush just because you think I expect something of you."

Heat burned all the way up her neck. She wished her pulse would calm, wished she did not sound like a startled bird clinging to him. She was the one who had told him she did not want to hold back.

She had kissed him first. Bold, almost reckless. And now here she was unable to even keep her nightgown from slipping without panicking like she had never been close to him at all.

"I’m not... rushing," she whispered, embarrassed by how small her voice became. "I just... I don’t know how to... be like this with you properly."

Levan looked down at her, quietly observing her as though trying to match the moment to the woman who, minutes ago, had dared him with her kiss. The corner of his mouth lifted, recognizing her contradiction.

"You seemed to know exactly what you were doing when you suggest me not to hold back."

She jolted, mortified. "I— I didn’t say it like that."

"Are you?" He raised a brow.

Ilaria let out a muffled sound as she pressed her face into her palms, the noise somewhere between a groan and a whine.

Levan huffed a soft laugh. "It’s alright, I was teasing." His fingers slid gently through her hair, smoothing the strands back from her face.

"There’s no proper skill to this, just honesty." He eased her hands away from hiding, one careful touch at a time. "And you’re very honest, painfully so."

She sputtered at that. "W-well, sorry for that—"

He tilted her chin lightly, stopping her apology before it formed. "Don’t be. I’d rather have your awkward honesty than anyone else’s certainty."

Those words settled like warmth under her skin, and she didn’t even realize she’d leaned forward until her forehead rested lightly against his chest. His arms instinctively wrapped around her, steadying her again like he kept doing without thinking.

After a beat of quiet, he murmured, "Come."

His hands slid beneath her again, not rushed or greedy, only with the intention of supporting her. And before Ilaria could question it, he lifted her effortlessly from the table.

She had forgotten how strong he was until his arms gathered her up as though she weighed nothing at all. There was no strain in his posture, no sharp inhale from exertion, only the steady tightening of his hold.

The muscles across his shoulders shifted under his shirt, solid and unyielding, and she could feel the breadth of him beneath her palms, warm and sure.

Her eyes widened, arms flying around his neck in a startled grip, legs instinctively wrapping around him to stay balanced. She squeaked, "H-hey—!"

He steadied her easily. "I’ve carried you before. Still don’t trust me?"

The confidence in his tone was matched by the effortless way he held her, his chest firm against her own, every breath of his grounding her, not because he restrained her, but because he supported her so completely she did not know how to react.

"It’s not about that," she protested.

"Then?"

"I’m just worried that—" Her face burned, looking away. "That you’ll think I’m... holding onto you too tightly."

"Since when are you shy about touching me?" he asked, looking almost amused by the idea. "You’re the one who always grabs me first."

Her embarrassment deepened, but he only watched her with that steady, unshakable calm as he walked them to the bed.

This woman... she is going to be the death of him someday.

"So hold on as tightly as you want," he encouraged, adjusting his grip around her. "Because I’m not going anywhere."