The Billionaire’s Secret Quartet



Alaric freed one hand, gently cupping Hertha's chin with the pad of his thumb, drawing his face close to hers. His warm breath brushed against her lips, a teasing whisper of intimacy.

He was already enveloping her from above, and this close proximity made it feel as though she was pinned under him, yet there was a tantalizing gap of mere inches between them. It was more suggestive than any direct contact could be.

The roughness of calluses on his hands, a testament to hard work, contrasted with the gentle way he caressed Hertha's tender skin, sending shivers down her spine.

"Hertha, my feisty little rebel, I've pined for you for three long years, forsaken all others in your name, and yet you doubt my sincerity? Accusing me of dalliances, worried it might upset Georgia? You wound me deeply," Alaric's voice, rich and velvety, carried a playful whine, seducing her with every word.

Hertha was already a bundle of nerves, his flirtatious grievance only served to melt her further.

Alaric, with his infuriatingly handsome looks, was a master at the art of seduction. With just a few words, laced with a vulnerable charm, he seemed to captivate Hertha entirely.

Understanding dawned on Hertha why Georgia was so obsessed, so madly in love with Alaric. After experiencing his allure, how could anyone else compare?

Her heart raced, her breathing unsteady, as she gazed at him with eyes brimming with emotion, unaware of the depth of her own feelings.

"All I hear are your words," she breathed, "I haven't felt missed."

Alaric's eyes sparkled mischievously, "Oh? Have you not felt it? This longing isn't just about me, you know."

Before Hertha could question him further, Alaric closed the distance between them, sealing her lips with a passionate kiss.

The kiss was fervent, full of desire. Hertha felt enveloped by warmth, a tingling sensation spreading through her body, leaving her weak.

Initially, she managed a muffled protest, but Alaric, seizing the moment, deepened the kiss, inviting her into the dance.

Lost in the haze of Alaric's expert touch, Hertha let go of her reservations, immersing herself in the moment.

If she had decided to accept him, why resist? Why cling to doubts when surrendering brought such bliss?

After all, Alaric's past indiscretion,

that one time with Georgia, was just a mistake. Dwelling on it would only bring pain, letting go was the path to happiness.

Feeling Hertha's response, Alaric's desire surged, almost overwhelming him. He had intended only to demonstrate his longing, but now, control was slipping.

In the presence of the one you love, the body doesn't lie.

That night, Alaric and Hertha cast aside their past grievances, indulging in their happiness.

The next morning, the first rays of

sunlight crept through the blinds, warming Hertha's face. Her internal clock nudged her awake. Shielding her eyes from the glare, she

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gradually adjusted to the light, fully opening her eyes.

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As consciousness returned, she felt. an unexpected weight on her, Alaric's arm draped over her, constricting almost. Had he been holding her like this all night?

They weren't even married, and he was already this possessive?

No way, she thought, that's not happening!