10x God-Tier Stealing System: Pumping S-Rank SuperHeroines Daily!-Chapter 184 - I hope I could be loved
Her voice barely grazed her lips, a fragile whisper left half-formed. The agonizing question was crushed into dust before it could even land. Her throat locked up tight, her breath catching painfully in her chest—
—and then the bedroom door creaked.
She flinched, the abrupt sound stabbing through the heavy silence like a physical blade. Her bruised body instinctively curled tighter beneath the protective layer of the sheets. Her pulse spiked, unsure if she was flooded with relief or sheer terror.
Then his voice washed over her, smooth, low, and rough with morning gravel.
"Morning," Cruxius called out casually, the deep timber vibrating through the room as if he hadn’t just shattered her fragile heart and stitched it back together in a single breath.
Ytrisia blinked, her muscles freezing in place.
He strolled in without even looking at her at first. His large, calloused hands were occupied balancing a wooden tray. A faint clink of metal utensils and a ceramic bowl announced his presence before he fully stepped into the light.
His stride was calm, predatory, and relaxed. He carried that careless, infuriating comfort that only a man like him could exude after thoroughly wrecking a woman through the mattress all night long. He was shirtless, the low dip of his trousers showcasing the sharp V-line pointing straight down to where he had ruined her.
She could barely pull air into her lungs.
He set the tray down on the small nightstand beside the bed, his thick thumb brushing casually along the edge of the ceramic cup before his dark eyes finally drifted up to find hers.
"I figured you’d be sore," he said. His tone was light, easy, those sharp eyes entirely unreadable. "So I grabbed something easy on the stomach. Eggs, toast, some soup. I mean—technically, I cooked, but you’re not allowed to complain unless you want to try my burnt version."
Her bottom lip trembled, a soft, pathetic quiver she couldn’t hide.
He didn’t notice the wetness in her eyes at first. He was already sinking his weight onto the edge of the mattress beside her, the springs dipping under his frame. He casually picked up the silver spoon, stirring the broth once with a practiced flick of his wrist. 𝗳𝚛𝗲𝕖𝚠𝚎𝚋𝗻𝗼𝕧𝗲𝐥.𝚌𝚘𝐦
"Should’ve let you sleep more, but... you looked like you were having weird dreams," he murmured, his voice softening.
Half a smirk tugged at the corner of his sensual lips as he leaned closer, lifting the warm spoon toward her mouth. "Come on. Open up."
She didn’t move.
Her lips parted slightly—a soft, wet opening—but not for the food. Just... in pure disbelief.
Her pretty eyes shimmered wildly now, glassy and wet as they locked onto his handsome face.
He blinked, the playful smile faltering and dropping from his lips. "Ytrisia?"
She couldn’t find the air to answer him right away.
Then—barely a raspy breath—her voice pushed through the suffocating weight sitting on her chest.
"I thought you’d left."
His hand stilled mid-air, the soup rippling in the spoon.
For the very first time since she had known him, Cruxius looked genuinely caught off guard. The cocky armor slipped.
"What?" he asked, the teasing lilt vanishing as his voice dropped a serious, low note.
"I woke up and you weren’t here," she choked out, her blurry gaze finally slipping down to his bare chest, unable to handle his intense stare. "And the bed was cold, and... I thought... I thought you had gotten what you wanted."
Cruxius set the spoon down on the tray with slow, deliberate care.
Her broken words hung in the space between them, raw, quivering, bleeding out onto the sheets.
He turned his broad shoulders fully toward her. His dark brows furrowed deep, but not with defensive anger. It was an expression much softer. Something that looked remarkably like wounded disbelief.
"I thought you’d leave," she continued, her voice gaining a desperate tremble now. "Because I thought you were done. That you were bored of me. That you finally got what you were chasing, and now..."
She couldn’t force the rest out.
Her painful confession folded into thick, suffocating silence.
Hot tears spilled over her lashes, tracking quickly down her flushed cheeks.
He exhaled a long, dragging breath, running a large hand back through his dark, tousled hair. He didn’t look guilty; he looked like a man staring at a massive knot, trying to figure out which string to pull to undo the pain in her chest.
Then he laughed.
It was a soft, crooked sound, entirely void of mockery, vibrating deep in his throat.
"Gods, Ytri..." he muttered, shaking his head. His tone lowered to a husky, intimate octave, laced with an emotion that tasted like profound regret. "Do you really think I’d ever get enough of you?"
He leaned his solid weight in closer, the scent of him—musk, spice, and the lingering sweat of their night together—washing over her senses.
His hand reached out. His touch was shockingly gentle as his rough fingers brushed the tangled hair back from her tear-stained face. He tucked the messy strands of purple behind her delicate ear like she was something holy.
Her eyes lifted to him, wide, wet, and trembling.
And there it was. That devastating smile.
That insufferable, lopsided, flirtatious smirk that had stolen her breath, wrecked her panties, and ruined her sanity more times than she could ever hope to count.
"I might be a little loose here—" he said, pointing a single, strong finger down toward the heavy bulge at his crotch, "—but I’m not loose in here."
His hand traveled back up, flattening lightly over his own bare chest, his palm pressing right over the steady, thumping rhythm of his heart.
"I’m messy. I flirt too much. I get distracted. I make terrible decisions. But when it comes to you..." he paused, the rough pad of his thumb brushing tenderly along the sensitive curve of her jawline, physically lifting her chin so she had no choice but to hold his gaze. "...I hope you can love me even if it hurts every time."
