My Ruin to You - Chapter 9

Fortunately, the Grand Duke’s estate was on the outskirts of the capital. Had it been located in the bustling city center or near the imperial palace, she wouldn’t have even been able to step out of the carriage. Roseline could feel how swollen her lips were from being bitten and sucked all this time—they probably looked like boiled sausages by now.

“Ah—!”

But her lips weren’t the only problem. Having spent so long straddling Valen’s lap, her legs had gone weak. If he hadn’t caught her, she might have made a complete fool of herself.

“I-I’m fine. I can walk.”

When Valen crouched slightly as if to carry her outright, Roseline panicked and waved her hands dismissively. To prove just how functional her legs were, she even took a few exaggerated hops. Normally, Valen would have teased her with something like, “So energetic,” or “You should fake weakness at times like this,” but today, he merely nodded and firmly interlaced his fingers with hers. His grip was unyielding.

“We greet His Highness the Grand Duke. We hope your journey was peaceful.”

Valen didn’t even pretend to acknowledge the bowing steward and servants as he passed by. His strides were hurried, too—none of his usual consideration for Roseline’s shorter steps. It was unusual.

“You’re in too much of a hurry, Your Highness.”

What she meant was, Slow down a little.

“You’re right. I am.”

Instead of slowing, he simply admitted it. His polished leather shoes had already reached the top of the staircase. And as if whatever had him so impatient couldn’t wait, he was already undoing the buttons of his jacket.

Hiiik.

Roseline gulped. Her uneasy gaze darted across the broad expanse of his back. Y-Your Highness. Wait. Calm down, okay? No matter how timidly she spoke, he always responded dutifully. Mm, I’m listening. Watch your step.

Unfortunately, stairs were the least of Roseline’s concerns. The real disaster would be rolling around in bed with a man she was about to break up with.

“Y-Your Highness!”

And now that disaster was becoming reality. His steps were unmistakably heading toward the bedroom. Roseline clung to the mahogany banister, shaking her head stubbornly. When their joined hands pulled taut from the resistance, Valen stopped and slowly turned.

Good gods.

His once-pristine jacket was completely disheveled, and several buttons of his shirt had come undone, revealing the thick column of his neck. The composed, dignified nobleman was nowhere to be seen—replaced by a sensually disheveled man who fixed her with a heavy, molten stare.

“Why do you keep calling me?”

He guided her hand to the heat between his legs. When Roseline flinched and tried to pull away, he pressed down on the back of her hand, holding it in place. Through the fabric, the damp heat and stifling warmth seared into her palm.

“How much longer do you expect me to hold back here?”

Huh?

His voice lifted at the end, almost like a challenge, as he tugged her hand forward. At the same time, the bedroom door swung open. Leaving what little conscience and reason she had left in the hallway, Roseline was pulled inside.

“Hhk—!”

Pinning her against the closed door, he shrugged off his jacket and tossed it aside. As if their endless kissing in the carriage hadn’t been enough, he pried her lips apart again, licking and sucking until her jaw ached from being held open for so long, her overworked lips stinging.

“Nngh, stop—ah, it hurts…!”

The tingling was so intense she couldn’t help the whimper that slipped out. And for the first time, the man who seemed unstoppable finally pulled back.

“Right. It probably does.”

His lips, slick with their mingled saliva, curved into a low laugh before he abruptly scooped her up. His destination was the bed—a massive, imposing four-poster fit for a Grand Duke.

Only when her back hit the mattress did the suppressed sense of danger crash over her. Swallowing dryly, Roseline clumsily propped herself up on her elbows.

“What?”

Valen paused in unbuttoning his shirt, eyebrows lifting. The rustling fabric parted to reveal his sculpted torso, and Roseline hastily averted her eyes.

“I… have something to say.”

She didn’t. But she had to scrape together something.

“Tell me tomorrow.”

His refusal was firm—no words would be heard tonight.

“Y-yes, but—wait, did you just say tomorrow?”

Roseline, who’d been nodding reflexively, jerked her head up to gape at him. Tomorrow? There was still the rest of today—afternoon, evening, night—and by specifying tomorrow, he was outright declaring his intent to keep her here until then. The realization struck like lightning, and the rationality she’d left outside the door peeked back in.

“No, Your Highness!”

“Valen.”

“You are ‘Your Highness,’ and ‘Your Highness’ is you!”

Roseline rolled her eyes as if to say, Why does that even matter right now?