Arlan, with both of them still soaked, carried Oriana through the chamber, leaving a trail of wet footprints on the floor. He gently laid her damp form in the center of the bed and then climbed onto it himself, his naked figure in full view of her shy eyes.
As he positioned himself above her, his intentions became unmistakable. He began to part her legs.
"Arlan... I really am... healed..." Oriana stammered, her instinct to close her legs battling against his actions.
He leaned in closer, pecked on her lips as to coax her. "Let me check for myself," he insisted, his hands resting on her knees. "A good husband takes care of even the smallest injuries of his wife, not to forget this one is caused by me. Do you want me to be an ignorant husband who leaves his wife on her own after having his fill?"
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