Chapter 436 Just the Two of Us

There were times Yunice had nearly given up. She'd thought about throwing it all away, finding a titan to sleep with, just to make the rumors true—maybe then it wouldn’t hurt so much.

But every time that thought crossed her mind and she tried to pick someone, she’d feel sick. Every man seemed filthy to her. Just imagining being touched by them made her want to vomit.

And so, the years passed.

Yunice didn’t know why she didn’t hate Wyatt. Maybe it was the air of authority he carried that suppressed the usual filth of men. Maybe it made her believe he had too many options to even glance her way.

Or maybe he had desire—but he didn’t leer. He never used those degrading words to put her down.

He never asked if she was a virgin. Never cared if she wasn’t. It felt like he liked her—her body, as it was—without letting anything else cloud his judgment.

Wyatt’s hand gently moved to her lower back, massaging her waist. “Does it hurt? I heard the first time usually does.”

The tearing of the hymen could cause a moment of sharp pain, and initial penetration often brought discomfort.

Usually, if the man knew what he was doing, the pain would be fleeting—quickly overtaken by other sensations.

But Wyatt had left at the worst possible moment.

Yunice’s voice was soft. “It didn’t hurt.”

But it hadn’t been enjoyable either.

Today had dragged up far too many memories she wanted to forget.

Yunice lifted her eyes toward the full-length window in the lounge. The sky outside had already turned black, scattered with stars.

Noticing Wyatt’s injured hand, she suggested, “Let’s go home.”

When he didn’t respond, she turned her head—only for him to kiss her.

She was caught off guard, her neck tipping back as Wyatt’s lips moved lower…

Realizing what he was trying to do, Yunice murmured, “Your hand’s still hurt…”

And he was probably injured elsewhere too.

Wyatt’s voice was low, firm. “Don’t push me away.”

The hem of her clothes was pushed up. Yunice found herself laid back on the bed.

This time, Wyatt didn’t turn off the lights.

He wanted to see her clearly. And he wanted her to see him—wanted her to know it was him.

Under the intensity of his gaze, Yunice felt awkward. She reached for the light switch, only for her wrist to—be caught.

“Let’s forget everything else,” Wyatt said quietly. “Tonight, it’s just us.”

Her fingers twitched, her eyes flickering with emotion. Could physical pleasure really make up for emotional emptiness?

Could a flood of dopamine work better than any drug?

Even with all the mental preparation in the world, when Wyatt finally touched her, Yunice couldn’t help but press her knee to his chest.

“Let’s turn the lights off…”

She still couldn’t fully let go.

Wyatt didn’t push her. He understood her past might make her tense, even fearful. He couldn’t rush her.

He turned off the lights.

Outside, the sky was a soft, shadowy gray, faint starlight seeping through the windows.

Wyatt could still see her.

He kissed her again—this woman, at last, completely his.

Yunice clutched the silk sheets, tears gathering at the corners of her eyes, not from pain, but from her body’s instinctive reaction.

Afterward, he supported her by the waist, sitting her up on his lap. Her voice trembled with soft sobs.

But she never told him to stop.

When her legs began to shake, Wyatt held back, whispering against her ear, “Can I finish inside?”

Yunice tensed, then gave a faint nod. Wyatt finally let go.

Yunice didn’t have much stamina. She didn’t want to move at all afterward, curling up on her side like a little shrimp.

Worried she’d catch cold, Wyatt fetched warm water and carefully cleaned her.

She fell asleep before he could even finish.

Wyatt sat there holding the towel.

Nights like this were supposed to end with two people curled up together, talking about their past and their future.

But Yunice didn’t seem to care for that sort of sentiment.

With a long breath, Wyatt tossed the towel in the basin, did a quick rinse, and climbed into bed. He pulled her into his arms, letting her head rest against his chest.

He couldn’t sleep.

His thoughts wouldn’t stop—about the past, the future.

About everything Yunice had endured.

The pain in his heart tightened again. He reached for a cigarette, biting it between his lips. But when he looked down at the small, fragile woman curled in his arms—

So light. So narrow-boned. Like she weighed nothing at all.

His fingers brushed her waist, and his brows drew together once more.

He didn’t light the cigarette—afraid the smoke would wake her.

But even thinking about Paul made his hands itch. He couldn’t just let him go.

Now that he knew everything Yunice had suffered, there was no way Wyatt could pretend to let it slide.

He crushed the unlit cigarette into the ashtray and stayed awake all night.

Yunice, on the other hand, slept deeply. When morning came, her body ached everywhere.

She rolled over, unwilling to get up. Her eyes were still puffy.

As she shifted again, her nose brushed against Wyatt’s chest.