The Sleeper's Wrath and His Wife's Strike novel Chapter 61

Lindsay stared, completely lost. “What?”

“Did you just call me Yves?” There was a hint of wounded pride in Yves' voice.

Lindsay froze, her mind finally catching up to the implication. She twisted her hands together, cheeks coloring with embarrassment. “Should I… call you ‘husband’ instead?”

The moment she said it, Lindsay felt her whole body flush with heat. Her face was practically on fire.

She’d only ever called him ‘husband’ back when Yves was in a coma—he couldn’t hear her anyway. But now, with him wide awake and right in front of her, she couldn’t pretend not to be flustered. After all, he had always been ‘Yves’ to her in name only, someone from her father’s generation.

Yves seemed quite pleased, grinning as he nodded. “Well, since I still can’t walk properly, I’ll have to trouble my wife to help me with a bath.”

“A b-bath? With… you and me?” Lindsay stammered, her hands nervously twisting the hem of her shirt.

Yves laughed at her panicked expression. “Sure—unless you’d rather we bathe together?”

“No!” Lindsay blurted out, then tried to compose herself. “How about I hire a male nurse to help you instead?”

“Unless he has a death wish,” Yves said flatly, leaving no room for negotiation.

Lindsay swallowed hard, thinking it over. “But I’m not exactly… trained for this.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t you take care of me and wash me back when I was in a coma? I’d say you’re pretty experienced.”

Lindsay covered her face with both hands. Back then, he couldn’t move or speak—a real-life sleeping beauty. She hadn’t thought much of it at the time, but now he was wide awake and watching her every move.

His voice came out low and rough, as if he was holding something back. Still, he asked with unexpected gentleness, “kiss me?”

Lindsay’s eyes widened, her whole face turning scarlet at his directness.

“May I?” Yves pressed, when she still hadn’t replied.

Lindsay’s gaze darted away. They were married on paper, but the whole relationship still felt surreal, as if she hadn’t quite stepped into the role of ‘wife’ yet. Yves, on the other hand, seemed perfectly at ease—maybe even happy.

“I… I…”

Before she could finish, Yves' hand slid to the back of her head, drawing her close. His lips claimed hers in a hungry, lingering kiss, savoring the softness of her mouth as if he’d been waiting for this forever.