How the Ice King Became my Doting Billionaire Husband

Morwenna's clear, untainted eyes reflected Stuart's disgrace as if a villain were trying to drag a goddess from her pedestal.

When their eyes met, Stuart's tormented soul found a moment of clarity.

Morwenna's cheeks turned rosy from the kiss; she was inexperienced in matters of the heart. No one had ever talked to her about such things. She grew up without elder women to guide her. Melvin, the kind man from her childhood, was not someone who could broach such topics, and Norbert was even less likely to discuss these matters. Growing up in the mountains, she couldn't learn about these things from the internet.

Morwenna blushed instinctively, unaware of what might happen next. Trusting Stuart, she let him proceed without resistance, even as her white nightgown tore.

Stuart's expression changed subtly. He grabbed a blanket and covered Morwenna, contemplating escape once more.

The first time Morwenna, drunk, kissed Stuart, he realized his feelings for her might be deeper than he admitted and chose to flee from them. He refused to acknowledge his vulnerabilities. Now, with Morwenna intoxicated again, she was no longer just Stuart's weakness; she had become the very beat of his heart. A weakness could be exploited, but losing a heart meant death.

Stuart wanted to flee again, fearing his disgrace might lead him to hurt Morwenna.

Grim-faced, he got out of bed and strode toward the door. As he was about to leave, Morwenna, her face still flushed and body marked by kisses, her nightgown revealing a shoulder, stumbled after him. Her eyes, misty like a wronged child, caught his gaze.

Holding her torn gown with one hand and clutching Stuart's shirt with the other, she looked up at him, "Where are you going, mister?"

"I... need to step out."

Morwenna thought Stuart had matters to attend to, given his usually busy schedule. She felt a pang of disappointment and was about to let go when she remembered Greta's advice to cling to him, to seduce but not to surrender fully.

Reaffirming her grip, Morwenna shook her head, "Please don't go."

Stuart paused, caught off guard by her plea.

Morwenna, stubborn by nature, had never begged anyone to stay, not even when illnesses forced her to fend for herself.

Releasing his hold on the door, Stuart looked into her eyes, "Do you want me to stay?"

Morwenna nodded, her grasp on his shirt tightening.

"And what would you have me stay for?" Stuart asked, his voice husky with an allure that was hard to resist.

Morwenna didn't quite know what to say. Following Greta's advice, she knew she had to be bold, to wear less, to keep Stuart from leaving but not to go too far. After all, as Greta Irons said, men value what they can't easily have; if they get it without effort, they won't cherish it.

Convinced of Greta's wisdom, Morwenna simply said, "I want to sleep with you. I missed you."

Her voice was soft and pleading, reminiscent of a kitten's mewl.

Stuart's resolve melted away.

At that moment, he felt that if Morwenna asked for the world, he might just give it to her. Seeing Stuart relent, Morwenna added with a pout, "Mister, I think I twisted my ankle."

In her haste to follow Stuart, not fully awake, she had stumbled and hurt herself.