Too Late Mr. White! I'm Married To Your Rival Now novel Chapter 315

Aria's POV

I woke up feeling delightfully sore as Aiden and I finally made our way downstairs for dinner. Lucy had already prepared everything and left—thank God. My face burned crimson at the thought of the sounds we'd been making upstairs. Had she heard us? The thought made me want to crawl under the kitchen island and die.

I tried to shoot Aiden an accusatory glare, but when I looked up, his eyes were so full of affection that my irritation melted away instantly. I cleared my throat awkwardly. "Let's eat dinner."

"Not very hungry," Aiden remarked, his eyes darkening as he looked at me. "Just had quite the meal upstairs."

My temperature spiked instantly as memories of our bedroom activities flooded back. I hurried to the kitchen island and poured myself a glass of water, gulping it down desperately.

As I was about to take a second swig, Aiden's hand gently pressed down on my glass. "Drink any more and you won't have room for soup," he murmured, his breath tickling my ear.

I reluctantly set down my glass, hyperaware of his proximity.

"You know," he said casually as we settled at the dining table, "I think I developed a new appetite."

"For food, I hope," I muttered, trying to focus on serving myself some of the delicious-smelling pasta Lucy had prepared.

He chuckled, the sound sending shivers down my spine. "Among other things. You make quite the dessert, Princess."

"Will you stop?" I hissed, though there was no real heat behind it. "Lucy could have heard us!"

"I doubt it," he replied, seeming entirely too pleased with himself. "Though I'm quite fond of how vocal you get when I—"

"If you finish that sentence, you're sleeping on the couch," I threatened, pointing my fork at him.

Aiden just laughed, reaching across the table to brush his thumb across my lower lip. "You had a little sauce there," he explained, though his touch lingered longer than necessary.

I rolled my eyes but couldn't fight my smile. "You're incorrigible."

"You love it," he countered, and I couldn't deny it.

The rest of dinner passed in comfortable conversation, punctuated by heated glances and not-so-accidental touches. By the time we finished eating, I was seriously considering skipping dessert in favor of dragging him back upstairs.

---

My father's surgery went remarkably well. Within two days, he was already up and moving around his hospital room. After spending over a week confined to the hospital, though, Dad was clearly at his limit.

I consulted with his doctor about the possibility of discharge. The physician assured me that Dad could leave tomorrow if he felt up to it, but stressed that he needed to rest and avoid strenuous activities for at least three months.

Seeing how restless Dad had become in the sterile hospital environment, I decided to allow him to go home the day after tomorrow—a compromise between his eagerness and my concern.

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