Chapter 196: "Please Keep Going"

Jordan felt as though it took every ounce of his self-control to remain composed.

He still couldn’t quite believe that she was this close to him, this open and trusting, let alone that she was allowing him to touch her so intimately.

The nervousness hadn’t disappeared.

If anything, it had only grown sharper.

He had imagined touching her countless times in the privacy of his own thoughts. He had wondered what it would feel like to hold her against him, to explore the softness of her body with his hands.

Yet, fantasies had never prepared him for reality. They had never told him how warm her skin would be, how delicate her body felt beneath his touch, or how intensely aware he would become of every tiny reaction she gave him.

So when Aren guided his hand herself, Jordan moved with almost reverent care.

His fingers pressed more firmly against her breast through the fabric, matching the pressure she’d shown him, yet he remained hesitant, as though afraid one careless movement might hurt her.

Aren noticed the difference immediately.

Caio’s desire had always seeped through his deliberate touches, no matter how carefully he tried to restrain himself.

Isidore had been entirely different. His touches had carried a strange mixture of terrifying precision and detached experimentation, as though he were constantly observing, analyzing, and learning something from her reactions.

Jordan was nothing like either of them.

He was gentle.

Almost painfully so.

Even while he kissed her with growing desire, his half-lidded eyes revealing how badly he wanted her, his hand remained slow and deliberate against her breast.

He never grabbed impatiently or rushed his movements. Every caress seemed accompanied by the silent question of whether he was doing too much.

Strangely enough, that tenderness only made Aren want more.

His restraint heightened her awareness of every small movement of his fingers, every faint shift in pressure against her skin, until her body began responding before she could fully understand why.

"Jordan..."

She pressed her chest more firmly into his hand, her voice softer now, threaded with need.

"A little more... I like it a little more."

The breathless instruction did very little to strengthen the thin thread of control Jordan was desperately clinging to.

He’d wanted more from the beginning.

He simply hadn’t known whether he was allowed to take that next step.

"God..." he breathed, his forehead brushing hers. "If only you knew how much more I want with you."

The confession escaped before he could reconsider it.

His hand slipped away from her breast, but before Aren could fully register the loss, his fingers had already slipped beneath the hem of her shirt, traveling upward until they reached the edge of her bra.

He hesitated only briefly.

With a gentle hook of his fingers, he lifted the fabric until it cleared her breast.

Aren’s breath caught.

"...Jordan?"

Before she could react, he’d gathered her shirt and lifted it higher, exposing her breasts completely to his gaze.

The cooler air of the gallery brushed across her bare skin, raising a shiver along her body. The sensation lasted barely a second before his mouth replaced it.

He kissed the soft curve of her breast first, almost hesitantly.

That final trace of uncertainty disappeared entirely when his lips reached her nipple. He closed his mouth around the sensitive peak and sucked gently.

Aren’s mouth fell open in startled surprise.

Her fingers immediately found his hair, curling into it as an involuntary sound escaped her.

"Mm—"

Jordan froze.

He pulled back slightly, searching her face for any sign that he had gone too far.

"You... okay?" he whispered. "Am I... allowed to do this?"

The pleading look in his eyes dissolved the last of Aren’s shyness.

"Yes," she said, nodding timidly as she held her shirt higher for him. "It just... it feels really good."

Her cheeks burned hotter.

"Please keep going."

Jordan needed no further encouragement. A small smile replaced the uncertainty in his expression, and he returned to her breast with greater confidence.

His lips closed around her nipple again, this time sucking more firmly while his tongue traced slow circles around the sensitive peak.

His free hand moved to her other breast, cupping it carefully before his fingers began teasing the nipple.

"Jordan..." Aren’s breath caught. "Mmm... yes."

The sensations slowly gathered inside her, warmth spreading downward until a deeper, heavier ache settled between her thighs.

She became increasingly aware of her own arousal, of the damp heat gathering there, and the realization made her glance downward.

That was when she noticed him.

His erection was already straining visibly against the fabric of his pants.

’Oh...’

Her eyes widened slightly.

’He’s getting harder, too.’

The realization stirred something inside her, urging her to make him feel as good as she did.

Without overthinking it, she slid one hand down his chest, letting her fingertips travel lower until they brushed against the hard outline beneath his pants.

The reaction was immediate.

Jordan’s entire body tensed.

A rough, broken sound caught in his throat, and he abruptly pulled away from her breast with a soft, wet pop.

"Ariana—"

Aren immediately stopped.

Her expression shifted from curiosity to alarm as she searched his face.

"I’m sorry. I... Did I hurt you?"

"No."

Jordan forced the word out through a strained breath.

He didn’t know whether to laugh or curse at the absurdity of his situation.

She was so eager to touch him. She had finally overcome her own shyness enough to reach for him, and he wanted that more than he could properly express.

Yet, his body was still betraying him because of the injury he’d sustained for her.

Even that gentle caress of her fingers sent a sharp shiver through him, strong enough that the stitches deep inside his shoulder began pulling painfully. He could already imagine them tearing if she started stroking him more deliberately.

"It’s just..." He exhaled slowly, trying to steady himself. "If you keep touching me like that..."

His gaze dropped briefly toward his waist before returning to her face, embarrassment written plainly across his expression.

"I... I can’t really control the sensations. I can feel it tugging at my stitches. Once we’re done, I might have to get them redone."

Aren immediately withdrew her hand. Understanding replaced the desire in her eyes, followed by a faint crease of guilt between her brows.

"I’m sorry. That was inconsiderate of me."

Jordan flinched as if the words hit him.

"No."

He reached for her hand immediately, catching it before she could retreat any farther.

"I liked that you touched me. I wanted it. It’s just..."

He let out a frustrated breath.

"God, I just wish I were fully healed already."

Aren smiled warmly, though a teasing glint soon entered her eyes.

"Then you better think twice the next time you plan to take a bullet for me."

A helpless laugh escaped him.

He leaned down and kissed her again, slower and gentler this time.

"You already know I won’t think twice."

Carefully, he adjusted her bra back into place and lowered her shirt over her breasts, making sure she was covered before drawing her into a tight, warm embrace.

His lips brushed hers as he spoke, his voice quieter now, yet carrying a promise far more serious than the teasing moments before.

"Next time," he murmured, "when I’m fully healed... I want to do more with you."

He paused, his gaze holding hers.

"If you’ll let me."

Aren smiled softly against his lips.

"I’d love that."

At that exact moment, a strange, raw scraping sound came from across the gallery.

Both of them turned toward the sculpture.

Biscuit was chewing determinedly on one of the velvet ropes surrounding the artwork.

He looked utterly committed to the task, as though he’d decided that either the rope would surrender or his teeth would become blunt trying.

Aren and Jordan nearly launched themselves off the bench at the same time.

"Biscuit!"

They hurried between the rows of benches, Aren reaching Biscuit first. She scooped him up and lifted him completely off the floor.

"No, Biscuit! That’s not food! And it’s not a toy, either!"

Unfortunately, Biscuit had no intention of surrendering his prize. His teeth remained firmly clamped around the velvet rope, and when Aren lifted him, he brought the rope up with him.

The sudden pull made the nearby stanchions wobble dangerously.

Jordan reacted instantly, reaching out to steady the barrier before it could topple.

"No, Biscuit! Let go!"

Biscuit refused with stubborn dignity.

It took several increasingly desperate attempts, before Aren finally managed to pry him away from the rope.

By then, both she and Jordan were exhausted enough that they ended up sitting on the gallery floor, breathing hard and staring at the small culprit between them.

Jordan broke into laughter first.

"Goodness, little guy." He reached over and affectionately rubbed Biscuit’s head. "You almost knocked over all the stanchions."

Biscuit stared back at him with complete innocence.

Jordan shook his head, still laughing.

"How am I supposed to talk to my mother if she hears that her son accidentally scratched her artwork while he was on a date, huh?"

Aren laughed as well, reaching over to pat Biscuit’s mischievous rump.

"Pretty boy, did you hear that? No chewing ropes around sculptures, all right?"

Biscuit frowned deeply.

There was no shame or guilt in his expression. Instead, he looked genuinely bewildered by the sudden discovery that the fascinating rope he’d found wasn’t, in fact, a perfectly acceptable toy.

With a small, offended huff, he wriggled free of Aren’s hand and climbed straight into Jordan’s lap instead.

He pressed his head against Jordan’s stomach, rubbing against him as though attempting to apologize on his own terms.

The sight immediately softened both of them. Aren laughed, and Jordan couldn’t stop smiling as he stroked Biscuit’s back.

"Our little guy is probably hungry," Jordan said, turning toward Aren. "Are you hungry yet? I’ve got our lunch prepared at the café just outside the back courtyard."

Aren’s enthusiasm returned in full force.

"You do?!"

She rose, already reaching for his arm.

"Then let’s go! Let’s have lunch before we come back and look at the other artworks. I’ve been starving just looking at all those food paintings."