Diana felt she hadn't drunk nearly enough. Every sensation was agonizingly sharp; the skin where his lips brushed felt as though it were being scorched by a flame, or jolted by an electric current.
She couldn't help it—her heart was hammering against her ribs, threatening to burst from her chest.
William's searing breath billowed against her collarbone. He left a trail of marks downward, his movements possessing a raw, predatory dominance. In the heavy, pheromone-laden silence of the night, Diana could almost hear the rush of her own blood.
If I'd known, she thought, I would have downed the whole bottle. If she were passed out, he could just help himself while she was blissfully unaware.
William's long, elegant fingers tangled into her dark hair. His other hand pressed firmly against the small of her back, pulling her flush against him with a sudden, commanding force.
Diana instinctively arched her chest, her neck tilting back in a weak, graceful surrender. Under the dim light, the slender curve of her throat formed a breathtaking arc.
It was the perfect angle for him to kiss.
His kisses were dense, scorching, and laced with the rich aroma of red wine. They felt like the finest silk sliding over her skin, carrying an unquestionable sense of possession as they systematically dismantled her defenses.
Diana's breathing grew ragged. Her fingers, resting on the table, clawed at the surface until the smooth wood grain felt jagged beneath her nails. The sheer loss of control made her limbs feel like lead. In a desperate scramble for leverage, her arm clipped the wine bottle.
Clatter.
The bottle tipped, and a stream of crimson liquid began to gush across the table, filling the room with a heady, fragrant bouquet.
The wine spread like a rapid red web, heading straight for Diana's gossamer-thin white silk nightgown. In a split second, William reacted. His iron-strong arm hooked around her waist, hoisting her up effortlessly with one hand.
Her hemline remained pristine—a white tulip blooming in the air—as he swung her back and pinned her once more against the somewhat cramped wooden table.
Her hands braced against the wood, a breathless cry escaping her reddened lips. "Ah—Mr. Knight..."
Her voice was a soft, honeyed tremor that clung to the ear, sweet and intoxicating.
It was pure provocation.
William pressed against her from behind, their combined weight causing the table to shove against the wall with a dull thud.
While one arm remained locked around her waist, he used his free hand to steady the table. His kisses wandered to the curve of her shoulder, his fingertip carelessly catching the thin silk strap of her gown and tugging it down with slow, deliberate intent.
Diana's hands trembled again.
The table hit the wall once more. Thud.
The strap slid past her shoulder.
Just as the temperature in the room reached a boiling point, a sharp knock-knock-knock came from the other side of the wall.
Noah's voice cut through the air as clearly as if he were standing right next to them. "What are you guys doing? What's with all the thumping? Sis, Mr. Knight, keep it down! I'm trying to study!"
William froze, his hand mid-motion.
Diana whispered breathlessly, "The walls... they aren't soundproof."
From the other side, they heard Noah chime in again, "You're telling me! I can hear every little whisper."
The room fell silent. All they could hear was the scritch-scratch of Noah's pen flying across his test paper.
William muttered, "Is this wall made of air?"
"Pretty much," Noah called out. "Ten of us in this building share the same alarm clock."
The fire in Diana's veins died down instantly. If she and William actually went through with it tonight, wouldn't it be a live broadcast for Noah?
Her brother was only seventeen. He was a high schooler heading into his senior year—the most critical time for his studies.
Diana turned her head to look at William. Her soft, flushed lips were a hair's breadth away from his. He looked into her eyes and read the two words written in her gaze: Not today.
He wanted her, desperately.
But William was a perfectionist. He demanded excellence in everything he did. If he was going to do something, he wanted to do it right. He wanted total immersion.
Both of them knew this was not the right setting. Even if they forced it, he wouldn't be satisfied.
His fingers released the silk of her gown. His chest moved away from her back.
Diana adjusted her clothes, feeling a wave of awkwardness for ruining the mood. Not knowing how to look at him, she grabbed a towel and knelt on the floor to soak up the spilled wine.
As the towel hit the red stain, a shadow loomed over her.
William knelt beside her and took the towel from her hand. "I'll do it."
Diana looked up, her long lashes fluttering. He looked calm, his expression cool and unbothered.
"Are you... angry?"
"Why would I be angry?" He wiped the floor, his pale, clean fingers getting stained with the crimson wine. He didn't seem to mind at all. "Your concerns are perfectly reasonable. Marriage involves mutual respect. As your husband, I believe I should respect your wishes."
So this is the 'mutual respect' he mentioned, Diana thought. It wasn't a bad feeling.
She stole a glance at him through her hair, watching the way his long, straight lashes cast shadows on his cheeks.
Suddenly, he looked up. His eyes were dark, deep, and unfathomable. "You'll be mine sooner or later," he said directly.
It was a bold, dominant declaration. Diana's heart skipped a violent beat.
The lights were out, and the room was swallowed by darkness. They lay on the double bed, each keeping to their respective side. The door to the balcony was open, letting in the sweltering gusts of a summer night.
Diana didn't mind the heat, but she hated the cold. There was no AC, only a single electric fan whirring away. She knew William had likely never slept in such primitive conditions. She felt a twinge of guilt.
She rolled over to face him, using the silvery moonlight to make out his features. "Mr. Knight, are you hot?"
William didn't hide it. "Yes."
"Maybe... you should go stay at the hotel nearby?"
William turned to look at her. "What? Are you kicking me out?"
"No!" Diana stammered. "I'm just worried you're uncomfortable. That hotel is very nice; you'd be much more comfortable there."
William zeroed in on a specific detail. "How do you know it's nice?"
Had she stayed there? With whom? His gaze sharpened.
"I worked there as a summer job during college," she explained quickly. "So I know the rooms are good."
His gaze softened. Diana reached out and pressed her palm against his forehead.
William stiffened. "What are you doing?"
"Checking if you're sweating."
William had thought for a second she was initiating something, but it was just a wellness check.
Diana felt the dampness on her fingertips and sat up. "I'll put some ice cubes near you. It'll help."
"It's late, Diana. Don't bother."
But she was already out of bed. She ran past the balcony, her slender silhouette casting a beautiful shadow in the moonlight. "It's no trouble. We have ice in the freezer."
She went to the kitchen and filled a washbasin with ice. As she reached down to lift the heavy basin, a pair of large hands beat her to it.
William walked back to the room, basin in hand, with Diana following behind.
"Why did you get up?"
"To help my wife carry things."
He said it with such straight-faced sincerity that Diana couldn't help but smile.
They placed the ice on a chair, and Diana adjusted the fan so it blew directly over the basin. She clapped her hands together, satisfied. "Behold: the all-natural, eco-friendly air conditioner."
William let out a short, amused chuckle. "Impressive."
He lay back down, and indeed, the air felt a bit crisper. Exhaustion finally took hold of Diana. The moment her head hit the pillow, her mind began to drift.
Just as she was falling off to sleep, William's voice drifted over. "When I was kissing you earlier... did you like it?"
The memory of those heated, suggestive kisses rushed back. Diana's face flushed hot, and her sleepiness vanished instantly.
"Why... why are you asking that?"
William replied in that same deadpan, academic tone, "In my view, intimacy is like an exam. It requires pre-study, active participation during the lesson, a post-class review, and constant practice."
"Earlier, we were 'pre-studying.' So, I want to know the results of our session. Did you like it when I kissed your neck first, or when I moved lower?"
Diana: "..."
She was speechless.