Spoiled By My Nine Beast Husbands (Emma Tibarn) novel Chapter 319

Chapter 319 I’ll Have To Prove It To You Myself

Lucien had the kind of body people could only dream of–strong, steady, not a single flaw to find. “No chance.” He shut Emma down instantly. With a small tilt of his head, the black ribbon tied behind him brushed against her face, a soft whisper of silk across her skin.

“The harder you try to explain, the guiltier I’ll look,” he said quietly. “They’ll just think I’m panicking and sending you to cover for me.”

Then, without warning, he moved in close–so close she could feel his breath warm against her lips, their faces a breath apart.

“Words don’t prove anything,” he murmured, his tone low, smooth, and dangerously

persuasive–like a secret only meant for her cars. “Actions speak louder. That’s how I show I’ve got what it takes.”

Her face turned scarlet before she could even think. The message finally clicked–he was clearly twisting the whole thing to his advantage. Before she could say a word, Lucien was already closing the distance, pulling her into his orbit with practiced ease.

“Come on, Emma,” he said with a teasing half–smile. “You don’t want them gossiping that I’ve got… issues, do you?”

He looked so pitiful that the protest on her tongue simply died. And honestly, she was partly to blame. If she didn’t step up, Lucien would be humiliated–he’d never be able to face anyone in this house again.

“Fine,” she breathed. “I’ll make it right.” Her hands framed his face, and she gave him a quick, soft kiss. His grin afterward said it all–he considered that more than enough compensation.

He caught her hand midair and guided it upward until her fingers brushed the black silk covering his eyes. “Emma,” he murmured, “mind taking this off for me?” There was a rough edge in his voice now, soft but charged–like something unspoken humming beneath the words.

Her fingertips grazed the ribbon, smooth as water, and then the heat of his skin seeped through. In a flash, last night’s images crashed through her thoughts, sending her pulse racing.

Just as she began to undo the knot, he stopped her, his fingers curling around hers. A low chuckle slipped from his lips. “On second thought,” he said softly, “leave it.”

He guided her hand down, slow and deliberate, until it came to rest against his chest, right above the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. “Feels better this way,” he added, his grin carrying a lazy sort of mischief.

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The faint fabric between them did little to hide the rhythm beneath–Emma could feel his heartbeat, steady and hard, drumming against her palm. “Emma,” his voice dropped to a near whisper, laced with a teasing drawl, “they’ve been saying I’m… not exactly impressive. What’s your verdict?”

Her face went up in flames. She tried to speak, but her throat refused to cooperate. If I have to answer? He’s more than capable–way more.

Lucien didn’t wait for a reply. Instead, he slid her hand lower, his movements unhurried, deliberate. “So quiet all of a sudden, huh?” he teased. His breathing had grown rough around the edges, even though his tone stayed smooth–measured, like he was leading a lesson.

“Guess I’ll just have to prove it to you myself,” he said softly, his voice dipping into something dark and intent.

Emma could feel her composure slipping through her fingers, melting under the heat rolling off him until her thoughts scattered completely. The air hung heavy, charged with something warm and dangerously intimate.

With the blindfold still in place, Lucien pulled his mental power inward, shutting out everything else. In that moment, he let her become his only point of awareness. It was more than trust–it was an unspoken surrender, an invitation without words.

He caught her wrist and guided her hand against his body, firm but unhurried, before lowering his head toward her. Even with his eyes covered, it felt as if he could see her–clearly, directly.

When his lips found hers, the kiss was deep and lingering, his touch patient and consuming. He didn’t push–he simply let the softness do its work, wearing down her resistance until nothing of it remained.

After what felt like ages, he finally drew back, their foreheads still touching, breaths mingling between them. “Emma…” he murmured, voice rough and low, “your turn to return the favor.”

The words came out like a promise, husky and inviting. He started to lean in again–but a sudden ding shattered the mood like a rock through glass. It was his lightcore. A beat later, hers went off too.

He froze mid–motion, annoyance flickering across his face beneath the blindfold—just a tiny furrow, but the irritation rolling off him was obvious. Emma caught his hand, slipping free from his arms before the heat between them could spark again.

“Check it,” she said softly. “Could be something that can’t wait.” Without waiting for an answer, she reached up and untied the black silk covering his eyes, the ribbon sliding away. Then she turned to her own lightcore, tapping it open to see what had ruined the moment.

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