I Refused To Be Reincarnated

The following day, Adam woke up to the bars of soft sunlight filtering through his room’s windows. In the light, dried sweat glistened on the carpets, wooden floor, walls, and blankets.

Even Misha, fast asleep beside him, seemed to radiate in the aftermath, a satisfied smile tugging at her lips. Her crumpled peach dress lay discarded in the corner, the fabric cool where it had once clung to her skin.

"The entire day... I can’t believe I... we..." he muttered, covering his face with his palm, locks of hair cascading between his fingers. Her touch, her warmth—all the feelings they had discovered—still lingered on his skin, and his body reacted with the same might it had yesterday. ¹

Genuine fear slithered beneath his skin, making him shudder as he gently stored these sensations in an imaginary drawer in his mind. He couldn’t spend his days indulging... even if the temptation seared through his muscles.

With a sigh, he delicately removed Misha’s arm from his torso. As he sat up, however, her hand wrapped around his shoulders. He heard her yawn behind him, and the flutter of the sheets sliding down her skin.

Her warm breath tickled his neck, rendering his attempts to restrain himself almost useless. "Morning, Mr. Beast. Should we go for round..." She paused for a second, then chuckled. "Who cares about the number?"

A dry gulp slid down his throat. Breath ragged, he suppressed the urge to turn. He knew he wouldn’t resist her golden eyes, fine lips, and curves.

He coughed, the resistance tearing at his heart. Nevertheless, he removed her arm and rose to his feet. "Our guests will grow uneasy if we spend another day without checking on them. Why don’t we postpone round whatever for later—after we safely join the archipelago and have time to relax?"

"You’re no fun..." Misha let him go, sighing. "Around three weeks? That’s too much." She leaned closer, softness pressing on his back as she bit his earlobe. "Let’s cut your exploration time to a week. Then, you’re mine."