My Beloved Man

Chapter 2: Can you not leave tonight?

Before I could get any further into my thoughts, he opened the bedroom door and went straight into the bathroom with wet clothes on without even sparing me a glance. The sound of running water could be heard as he started taking a bath.

I couldn't continue sleeping now that he was here. So I got up, got dressed and took his pajamas out of the cupboard. I put them in front of the bathroom door and walked to the balcony.

It was rainy season. Raindrops started to fall from the dark sky, making rhythmic sounds when they hit the tiles on the rooftop.

Hearing a noise behind me, I turned around and saw Dylan, who had already come out of the bathroom with his lower body covered with a bath towel. Drops of water dripped along his well built body from his wet hair and down onto the floor. He looked undoubtedly charming and tempting.

Probably noticing that I was looking at him, he looked at me and frowned slightly. "Come here!" he said with an emotionless tone.

I obeyed and walked towards him when he tossed the towel in his hand to me. "Dry my hair," he said with a low voice.

He had always been like this, so I had been used to it. He sat on the edge of the bed as I got on one knee behind him and began drying his hair.

"It's Grandpa Thomson's funeral tomorrow, so you'll have to go to the old house early," I said. I didn't mean to start a topic in an intentional way like that, but I was worried that he would've forgotten about it if I hadn't reminded him because he was too focused on Camilla.

"Alright!" he gave a brief response.

Knowing that he'd prefer not to interact with me much, I stayed silent and laid down to sleep after drying his hair.

I always felt really sleepy. Perhaps it was because of my pregnancy. Usually, Dylan would stay in the study room until midnight after taking a bath. For some reason, he too laid down after changing into his pajamas.

It was strange, but I just let him be. Suddenly, he pulled me into his arms and planted a short kiss on me.

He started taking off my pajamas. I abruptly stopped his hand, which was reaching down to somewhere below as I panicked. Confused, I gazed up at him.

"Dylan, I..."

"You don't want to do it?" he asked. His pair of black eyes were dark like the night, sharp and wild.

I lowered my eyes. Indeed, I didn't want to. But I was never the one making decisions.

"Can you be gentler?" The child was only six weeks old. If Dylan wasn't careful enough, the child would be in danger.

He frowned in silence as he came above me and started doing it not so gently. I was in so much pain that I curled up my body. All I could do was to try my best to protect the child from getting hurt.

Along with his ferocity, the rain outside gradually got heavier. Thunder and lightning flashed brightness in the dark night. After quite some time, he got up and went into the bathroom.

It was so painful that I broke out in a cold sweat. I wanted to get up and take some painkillers, but I gave up because I couldn't afford the side effects of the medicine doing any harm to my child.

"Buzz," Dylan's phone rang on the bedside table. I looked up at the clock on the wall. It was already eleven at night.

Camilla was the only one who would call Dylan at this hour.

The sound of running water in the bathroom stopped. Dylan came out wrapped in a bath towel and wiped his hands dry before picking up the phone.

I didn't know what the caller said. But after hearing their words, Dylan frowned slightly and spoke, "Camilla, stop messing around!"

He hung up the phone right after saying that. Before he could change his clothes and leave, I pulled him backwards and begged him softly, ''Can you not leave tonight?'' If it was in the past, I might have ignored it. But not this time. I didn't want him to leave.

Dylan frowned. There were coldness and displease on his handsome face. "You've just tasted a little of it, and now you're starting to act bold huh?"

What he said was cold and sarcastic.

I was caught off guard by those words. Then somehow, I found his behaviour funny. I looked up at him and said, "Tomorrow is Grandpa Thomson's funeral. No matter how much you care for her, shouldn't you have a sense of aptness?"

"Was that a threat?" He narrowed his black eyes at me and suddenly grabbed my jaw. His voice was low and cold. "Lacey Brown, you've grown capable."