Chapter 27
Natasha swallowed hard, her breath hitching as she gazed deeply into his eyes and nodded.
"Come here," he murmured, his voice low and soothing as he pulled her into his arms. His embrace was firm, almost possessive, and she felt the warmth of his body seep into her, chasing away the doubts that worried her moments before.
She melted into him, wrapping her arms around his waist, her insecurity and jealousy slowly vanishing.
"You know," Drogen began, a teasing lilt to his voice, "you're pretty cute when you're mad."
Natasha tilted her head back to look up at him, her lips curving into a mock scowl. "Cute? Far from it. You haven't seen me throw a real tantrum. If you did, you'd definitely rethink that statement, you might even dislike me."
He chuckled, the sound deep and rich. "There's nothing you could do that would scare me, let alone make me dislike you."
Her brow arched. "Have you forgotten when we first met? You seemed pretty pissed off by me."
"I wasn't mad," he said, smirking as he tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. "I was amused. Actually, I liked seeing you flustered."
She chuckled, amused. "You're a psychopath."
"I know" he quipped, his smirk widening. Their laughter mingled, filling the space between them with warmth.
After a moment, Natasha pulled away reluctantly. "I should… umm… take a shower."
His grin turned mischievous. "I could join you."
Her cheeks flushed a deep red. "Geez, no, you pervert!" she retorted, darting toward the bathroom. She quickly closed the door and called out, "And don't even think about teleporting in here!"
Drogen chuckled at her words, an amused smile tugging his lips as he headed out of her room.
By the time he returned, freshly showered and dressed in his usual black silk pajamas, Natasha hadn't come out yet.
"Hey princess, are you okay in there?" he called softly, knocking on the door but there was no response.
His voice rose slightly. "Natasha!"
Still no response. His panicked, worry tugging his heart. Without thinking twice, he teleported into the bathroom.
She was slumped in the bathtub, her head resting against the edge, her lashes fanned across her cheeks. Relief flooded him when he realized she was just asleep, her chest rising and falling steadily.
His gaze lingered on her sleeping face before going lower. The water clung to her skin, Highlighting every curve of her body, and Drogen swallowed hard. The sight of her naked form sent a bolt of heat straight through him. His cock hardened in excitement, but he clenched his jaw, forcing himself to look away.
Carefully, he reached into the tub and lifted her into his arms. Her skin was soft and warm against his palms, and he fought the strong urges that clawed at him. He carried her to the bed and laid her down gently then dried her body with a towel.
As he turned to grab a nightgown from her closet, his eyes betrayed him, flickering back to her. She was breathtaking, her beauty both innocent and maddeningly seductive. He took a shaky breath, willing himself to focus.
Drogen dressed her with as much care as he could muster, the simple act tormenting him. His hands brushed against her skin as he slipped the gown over her head, his arousal a constant, an aching reminder of how badly he wanted her. He so damn wanted to take her right there, but she was exhausted and needed sleep.
Once she was settled, he stepped back, running a hand through his hair. The scent of her lingered on his hands, and the tension pressuring inside him became unbearable.
He left the room in a hurry, his resolve hanging by a thread. Back in his own room, he shut the door and leaned against it, his breath ragged.
His body was on fire, and there was only one way to extinguish the flames. Groaning softly, he slid his pants down, his cock already hard and throbbing with need. He closed his eyes, and the image of Natasha filled his mind—the curve of her lips, the feel of her skin against his hands, the way she had sighed in her sleep.
Wrapping his hand around his hardened cock, he began to stroke slowly, his grip firm. Each movement sent a wave of pleasure coursing through him, and he couldn't stop the low moan that escaped his lips.
"Natasha…" he moaned her name as Waves of pleasure traveled down his spine. He quickened his pace, his mind consumed by memories of her—her touch, her kiss, her body pressed against his.
The pressure built rapidly, and his breathing grew erratic. With a shuddering groan, he found release, his body trembling as the intensity of it washed over him.
He stood there for a moment, chest heaving, a mixture of satisfaction and desire swirling within him. No woman had ever affected him this way before....no one but her.
After catching his breath, Drogen headed to the bathroom to clean up, letting the cool water wash away the heat of his half-satisfied desire. The cold shower helped clear his head, but the lingering thoughts of Natasha still clung to him.
Once he was done, he stepped out of the bathroom and got dressed then lay down on the bed to relax, almost immediately after his body hit the bed, he sensed the presence of a grim reaper. His senses sharpened as he awaited their arrival. Minutes later, Bruce appeared.
"Drogen, we've got a problem," Bruce said as soon as he materialized.
Drogen's brow furrowed. "What happened?"
"An evil spirit has surfaced," Bruce replied, his voice tight.
Drogen's jaw clenched. Whatever peace he'd just found evaporated instantly. He hurriedly stood up, then changed into a different attire before grabbing his keys and ring.
"Where is it?"
Bruce gestured toward the window, his tone grim. "Not far. It's stronger than the usual ones we deal with. We need to move quickly."