The Villainess Needs a Hug (Ivy Windsor) novel Chapter 433

Chapter 433

But she’d already endured the pain, hadn’t she? Didn’t that mean she’d made it through?

Ivy had no experience–she didn’t know the answer.

She mulled it over in silence, then mustered her courage and glanced at the man lying beside her.

In the dim light, he was stretched out on his back, his nose straight and bold against the shadows, his jaw sharp and unyielding.

She watched his Adam’s apple move as he swallowed, a display of masculine strength that sent another ripple of longing through her.

“Jamison…” she called softly.

“Hm?” He turned to face her. “Can’t sleep?”

“No…” Ivy replied, her voice barely above a whisper as she pressed her lips together. “I think I was just too nervous earlier. But now I feel a lot more relaxed, so… if you’d like, maybe we could try again?”

Jamison was honestly surprised.

She’d been trembling so much before, wound tight as a wire–how could she be ready so soon?

Or maybe she just felt guilty, trying to make it up to him by pushing past her discomfort.

After a moment of silence, Jamison rolled over to face her.

The rustle of sheets made Ivy’s heart flutter–she thought he was about to begin, so she turned as well, bracing herself.

But he didn’t move closer.

“Ivy, what are you thinking?” he asked in a low, gentle voice, tinged with both exasperation and amusement. “Do you really think I’m not going to let you sleep until we get this over with?”

Her cheeks grew hot, but thankfully the darkness hid her blush.

“No, it’s not that… I just think, well, we’re married now, and sooner or later we have to face this. Actually, if you’d been a little more… forceful before, maybe we would’ve…”

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Chapter 433

She trailed off.

Jamison finished her thought. “If I’d pushed you, you might never have been able to accept it, Ivy.”

Some things couldn’t be rushed–they needed patience, not pressure.

As her husband, he owed her understanding and care, not brute force. Besides, he was a doctor; he knew better than anyone where the lines were.

Ivy fell silent, a hint of frustration in her voice as she muttered, “But Dr. Penn said, you know… being intimate is supposed to help with cramps. I just wanted to know if that’s true…”

Understanding dawned on Jamison, and he gave a short, incredulous laugh. “So you’re using me as your remedy?”

Ivy didn’t dare respond.

“So that’s why you were so persistent tonight–I thought maybe you just felt bad for me, but turns out…” He shook his head, half amused, half resigned.

Ivy grew flustered. “Well, don’t men usually enjoy this kind of thing? You say it like you’re the one being taken advantage of.”

“Normally, sure. But…” Jamison hesitated.

But tonight, he hadn’t enjoyed it at all. He’d been worried the whole time.

Ivy heard the unspoken words and felt a pang

of guilt.

She thought of everything he’d done for her, and how little she’d been able to give in return. Even when she tried to fulfill her wifely duty, her nerves got the better of her–it really wasn’t fair to him.

Silence settled between them again. Ivy searched for some other solution, and then blurted out, “You’re a doctor–don’t you know of any medicine or, I don’t know, something that could… make it less painful?”

Jamison’s expression hardened, frustration flaring in his eyes.

“Ivy, do you even hear yourself right now? You want me to drug my own wife–just

to…”

He was so angry he couldn’t finish the sentence.

How could someone as smart, as reasonable as her, suddenly come up with such a reckless idea?

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