Page 79 of The Scholar's Improper Wife

“Tell me what you want,” he coaxed softly.

The words sent a shiver through her.Thiswas the difference between dreams and reality—this hesitant, heart-pounding negotiation. She wet her lips and whispered up to him. “I read some books... the illustrated ones.”

He hiccupped.

Yun-si twisted around and pulled a small book from under the pillow. She had hidden it there while waiting for Ting-zhi. Ting-zhi sat back up and took it gingerly. Only his wife would take out a book in the middle of a kiss on the bed on her wedding night.

The Seventy-Two Postures.The title read innocently.

Ting-zhi flipped open the book and the first thing he saw wasThe Sitting Lotus Position. He choked.

Yun-si studied his reaction. “Are these really doable?”

“Maybe?” he offered.

Yun-si took the book back from his hands and flipped through several pages with scholarly determination. “This one looks manageable,” she announced, pointing to an illustration that made Ting-zhi’s eyebrows climb toward his hairline.

“Si-er,” he said carefully, “perhaps we should start with something... simpler?”

“Simpler than what? It’s just sitting.” She tilted her head, studying the page with focused attention. “Have you ever tried any of these before?” she asked casually,too casually.

Ting-zhi’s survival instincts kicked in, and he said firmly, “No.”

“But you are Moonlit Brush.” Yun-si raised her eyes. “You wrote all those...”She gestured vaguely with one hand, eyeing him dubiously.

“My imagination makes up for what I lack in experience.” Ting-zhi made a sound somewhere between laughter and panic. “And in my imagination and dreams, it has always been you.”

Ting-zhi lifted the book from Yun-si’s fingers and tossed it on the bed, where it landed with a softthud. He cupped her face and leaned in until his breath ghosted over her lips.

“Yun-si,” he murmured, already moving closer, “can we just start with kissing, like in the dreams, but real?”

Without waiting for an answer, Ting-zhi kissed her. His mouth explored hers with a slow sweetness, determined to savor every brush of lips, every shared breath.

This, he thought, his mind hazy with want,thiswas what he’d been dreaming of.Thiswas what he’d been writing about in the dead of night, hunched over his desk scribbling scenes of stolen touches and whispered confessions. Her softness, her scent, the way she melted into him as if she, too, had been waiting for this for years—waiting for the moment when the lines between fiction and reality blurred into something real, something theirs.

His fingers traced the line of her jaw, then lower, loosening the ties of her inner robes and sliding them off her shoulders until finally she was bare before him, save for the embroidered silk square—herdudou—tied with trembling ribbon bows at her neck and waist. The candlelight caught on the delicate flush spreading from her cheeks down to her collarbone, painting her skin in molten gold.

“Zhi-shi,” she breathed uncertainly, crossing her arms in a belated attempt at modesty that made Ting-zhi’s grin turn wolfish. Her nipples pebbled visibly beneath the thin silk despite the warm summer night.

“Don’t,” he rasped, capturing her wrists with surprising gentleness despite the possessiveness in his grip. “I want to see you.”

When she turned an even deeper shade of pink—if such a thing were possible—he couldn’t resist ducking his head to press an open-mouthed kiss to the pounding pulse on her neck.

With unhurried motions, he used one broad hand to pin both her wrists safely above her while the other made quick work of the final ribbons holding her last defense in place. The dudou slipped away like petals in a spring breeze, baring her completely—every quiver, every rapid breath, the way her hips gave an aborted little jerk when the cool night air touched her most intimate places.

“You are beautiful, Si-er,” he murmured, his lips trailing kisses down her neck, over the delicate curve of her collarbone, lower still until his mouth licked one peaked nipple. Yun-si gasped, her back arching off the bed with the shock of pleasure that speared through her. Her body trembled beneath his touch, the unfamiliar sensations spreading through her like wildfire.

She wanted—needed—something, something just out of reach, something that made her shiver and gasp as his mouth closed over her nipple, his tongue swirling in slow, teasing circles.

“Zhi-zhi,” she whispered against his mouth, her voice unsteady, trembling with want. The sound of his childhood name on her lips, the way she said it like a plea sent a jolt of heat straight through him. His free hand smoothed down the trembling plane of her stomach, fingers splaying possessively over the dip of her navel before venturing lower, finding the slick heat between her thighs with a groan that vibrated against her skin. He tentatively slipped one finger inside her, then another, his touch slow, deliberate, drawing out each gasp and moan until she was writhing beneath him, her hips lifting to meet his hand.

More, she thought, her mind a whirl of sensation, her thoughts tumbling and turning like leaves in a storm.More.As if he could read her mind, his fingers moved faster, deeper, curlingjust so until she cried out, her back arching off the bed, her nails digging into his shoulders. Lightning flashed in the distance, then nearer and nearer, the tension coiling tight in her belly, her breath coming in ragged gasps—

Then his fingers pulled away, and she whimpered, her body aching with the loss.No. Don’t stop.But Ting-zhi was already moving, his breath coming in harsh pants as he fumbled with the ties of his own inner robes, shrugging them off until he was bare before her, his skin flushed, his body trembling with need. He positioned himself at her entrance, his hands gripping her hips, and with one firm, smooth stroke, he slid inside her, filling her completely.

The slide was obscenely easy—she was dripping wet, her body welcoming him with a tight clench that had him seeing stars. Yun-si’s moan was muffled against his shoulder as he began to move, slowly at first, then faster as her nails scored down his back, urging him on with breathless pleas.

Somewhere beyond the pounding of blood in his ears and the slick sounds of their joining, Ting-zhi registered distant thunder—the summer storm moving in across the rooftops of the capital. Or perhaps it was just the way the world narrowed to the feel of her wrapped around him, the salt-sweet taste of her skin beneath his lips, the way her cries climbed higher with each thrust of his hips.