Ethan leaned back deeper into his leather chair, the supple material creaking softly under his weight as a slow, hungry grin spread across his face. The office was quiet except for the low hum of the air conditioning and the distant muffled chatter from the HR floor beyond his glass walls. Sunlight slanted through the blinds, casting warm stripes across his desk and the glowing screen.
"Here it comes… here it comes," he muttered under his breath, voice thick with anticipation. He rubbed his palms together slowly, the faint friction sending a shiver up his arms, before clicking into the next unlocked chapter batch.
His pulse quickened the moment the new chapters loaded.
Chapter 16 — The Weight of Touch
The nights had grown colder. Frost rimed the edges of tent flaps, and breath hung visible in the lantern-lit air.
Madam Shen entered the command tent after the evening count, cheeks flushed from the biting wind, loose strands of her dark hair escaping her tight knot and brushing against the soft curve of her neck. She carried the ledger, but her steps slowed when she saw Li Yuan already there—shirt sleeves rolled high, forearms corded and dusted with faint dark hair, the golden lantern light tracing every ridge of muscle as he marked patrol routes on a map.
The space felt smaller tonight. Warmer. The scent of woodsmoke clinging to his clothes mingled with the clean, masculine heat of his skin, filling her lungs with every quiet breath.
She set the ledger down, fingers lingering on the table longer than necessary. When she straightened, he was closer than expected—close enough that the faint warmth radiating from his chest brushed the front of her robe.
"Numbers look better," he said, voice low, almost a rumble that vibrated through the narrow space between them.
She nodded, throat suddenly dry. "Because of you."
His gaze dropped—slowly—taking in the way her breath lifted the fabric across her full breasts, the subtle peak of nipples tightening against the chill… or something else. When his eyes returned to hers, the restraint in them was palpable, a coiled tension that made her thighs press together instinctively.
He reached past her for the ink brush, the movement deliberate. His bare forearm grazed the side of her breast—barely a touch, yet the contact sent a bolt of heat straight to her core. She inhaled sharply, the sound loud in the quiet tent.
Neither moved away.
The brush remained forgotten in his hand.
Her lips parted, a soft exhale ghosting across his jaw. She could feel the faint prickle of his stubble when she turned her head—just enough for her cheek to brush his. The contact was electric. Her body responded before thought: a slow, liquid ache blooming low in her belly, nipples hardening to aching points beneath linen, a rush of warmth dampening the soft folds between her legs.
Li Yuan's jaw flexed. His free hand rose—slowly, giving her every chance to step back—and settled at the curve of her waist, thumb resting just above the tie of her robe. The pressure was light, but the heat of his palm seared through fabric, branding her skin.
"Shen," he said, her name rough on his tongue, reverent.
She answered by leaning in, breasts pressing fully against the hard plane of his chest. The friction drew a low, involuntary sound from her throat. Her hands found his shoulders—broad, solid—and slid upward, fingers threading into the short hair at his nape.
Their mouths met—not rushed, not gentle. A slow, deep kiss that started with closed lips testing, tasting, then opened into wet, sliding heat. His tongue stroked against hers, deliberate and claiming, drawing a soft moan from her that he swallowed greedily.
His hand at her waist tightened, pulling her hips flush against him. She felt him then—thick, heavy, unmistakably hard against her lower belly. The rigid length of his cock strained against his trousers, pulsing with every heartbeat. A fresh rush of slick arousal soaked her folds, her body readying itself for him with shameless urgency.
She rolled her hips once, instinctively seeking friction, and he groaned into her mouth—a raw, guttural sound that made her clit throb.
His other hand slid up her spine, fingers splaying between her shoulder blades, pressing her closer until her swollen nipples dragged against his chest with every breath. The sensation was exquisite torture; she needed more, needed skin on skin.
Without breaking the kiss, she tugged at the tie of her robe. Fabric parted with a whisper, cool air kissing her heated flesh before his large, calloused hand cupped her bare breast. His thumb brushed over her nipple—slow circles that made her gasp into his mouth—before he pinched gently, rolling the sensitive peak until her knees weakened.
Li Yuan pulled back just enough to look at her—eyes dark, pupils blown wide with desire. His gaze raked down her open robe: full breasts heaving, nipples dark and erect, the soft curve of her belly leading to the shadow between her thighs where she was already glistening for him.
"Beautiful," he rasped, voice gravel-rough.
He lowered his head, mouth closing over one aching nipple. Wet heat, the gentle scrape of teeth, the soothing swirl of his tongue—he worshipped her slowly, thoroughly, until she was trembling, fingers clenched in his hair, hips rocking helplessly against the rigid length still trapped between them.
When he switched to the other breast, his hand slid lower—over the tremor of her belly, through the soft thatch of curls, until his fingers found her slick, swollen folds. He groaned against her skin at how wet she was, parting her gently, tracing her entrance before sliding one thick finger inside.
She cried out softly, walls fluttering around the slow, deliberate thrust. He added a second finger, stretching her, curling to stroke that sensitive spot deep inside that made her thighs quake. His thumb found her clit—swollen, slick—and circled with devastating precision.
Pleasure coiled tight and hot low in her belly, building with every stroke, every pull of his mouth on her breast. Her hips rode his hand shamelessly, chasing release, breaths coming in soft, desperate pants.
When she came, it was with his name on her lips—a hushed, broken moan—her body clenching hard around his fingers, pulsing waves of ecstasy that left her trembling in his arms.
He held her through it, mouth gentle now on her neck, murmuring praise against damp skin as she floated back down.
Only when her breathing steadied did he ease his fingers from her, bringing them to his lips. He tasted her slowly, eyes locked on hers, the blatant hunger in his gaze promising more—much more—when they finally came together fully.
Ethan's own breath was ragged now, cock straining painfully against his slacks as he shifted in his chair, one hand unconsciously palming the thick ridge through fabric. A low groan escaped him.
"Fuck… yes," he whispered to the empty office, scrolling hungrily to the next chapter, pulse pounding in his ears, completely lost in the slow, scorching burn unfolding on the screen.