Requiem of a Broken Heart

Chapter 1183:

For several nights in a row, he’d used his “wounds” as the perfect excuse to stay in her room.

The room was dark and quiet, bathed in soft silver light from the moon filtering through the windows. The peaceful glow wrapped around them, warm and intimate.

Norton leaned against the headboard, draped in a loose robe, a book in his hand. Yvonne nestled beside him, adjusting her position delicately to avoid hurting him.

Suddenly, he let out a muffled groan.

She immediately tensed, alarmed. She scrambled to lift the blanket, her voice laced with worry. “Did I touch your wounds? Are you okay?”

Just as her hand reached for the edge of his robe, he caught her wrist. His voice dropped, husky. “No. I’m fine.”

She didn’t look convinced. Her eyes glistened slightly, clouded with concern. “Are you sure? You’re not just saying that to stop me from worrying, right?”

couldn’t help it—a quiet chuckle

without warning, he flipped her beneath him in one swift, fluid motion. Yvonne’s eyes widened, stunned. Her mind barely caught up before she felt the weight of him above

his chest. “Actually… I’ve been fine for a while.

Her cheeks flushed a brilliant red as she tried to squirm away, but he didn’t

in place, leaving no room for escape. His voice dropped an octave, laced with heat. “My wounds may be

me that still

eyes darted

his lips brushing her earlobe. “Yvonne,” he whispered, “do

melted her thoughts. Her

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as if he wanted to memorize every inch of her. Clothes slipped away, piece by piece, falling forgotten to the

deliberate, reverent—like he was holding something rare, something