Dumping The Ice King His Mini-Tyrant novel Chapter 558

Adrian held his stiff posture for a moment, not daring to move, until the gentle rhythm of her breathing evened out once more. Only then did he slowly straighten up, nudging the car door shut with his foot and carrying her toward the elevator.

*She’s so light,* he thought. The woman in his arms felt as fragile as a fallen leaf.

A surge of heat rushed through him, and he had to actively suppress his more primal instincts. Though she was light—for a man who regularly bench-pressed close to two hundred pounds, carrying her was effortless—a fine sheen of sweat broke out on his forehead.

He stepped into the elevator, worried the bright light might wake her. But when he glanced down, he saw she had burrowed her face into his chest, curled up like an infant. His breath caught. Looking at her sleeping face, her usual sharp competence completely stripped away to reveal a soft vulnerability, he felt his throat tighten. His arms instinctively held her a little closer as he deliberately softened his steps, terrified of disturbing her rest.

The elevator ascended in silence.

When it reached her floor, Adrian carried her out and paused in front of her apartment door. “Selene?” he whispered, testing the waters. “We’re home.”

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