Lahat ng Kabanata ng While Marrying Mr. Steele: Kabanata 61 - Kabanata 70

Amelia's POVThe first thing I felt was warmth.Not the sun, not exactly. It was softer. Like the kind that slips through curtains and kisses skin without asking for permission. I blinked slowly, the sheet tangled around my waist, and reached across the bed instinctively.Empty.But I heard him before I saw him. The sound of quiet, controlled breathing. Then the faintest hiss of effort.When I sat up and turned my head, my breath caught.Ethan stood a few feet from the bed, shirtless, facing the tall glass window that opened to the garden. His back flexed as he moved through what I recognized as part of his therapy routine—slow, deliberate stretches. The cane rested nearby, but he wasn’t using it. His balance had improved. His control was better.But that wasn’t what held me in place.It was the raw beauty of him. The light catching the ridges of his back, the dip of his waist. Muscles trembling from effort, his jaw tight, his brows furrowed like he was at war with gravity. This wasn’

Ethan’s POVI had stared at the same cufflink for a solid five minutes before finally giving up and dropping it onto the vanity tray with a quiet clink. My fingers were steady—more or less—but something about tonight felt... too polished.Too much like my old life.Black-tie galas were nothing new. I had sat through fundraisers, board dinners, charity auctions with million-dollar paintings that never made it onto a wall. But this was different. This was Italy. And with it came ghosts—my father’s friends, classmates I used to fake-smile at, professors who told me I’d never live up to the Steele name unless I married rich and ruthless.I adjusted my collar again and cursed under my breath.I hated the tux already. It was tailored perfectly, of course—Amelia had made sure of that. But no amount of silk and precision stitching could ease the heaviness in my chest. The hotel suite was too quiet. And that quiet left room for memory. Too much room.Sienna’s face flashed through my mind. The

Amelia’s POV“You packed sunscreen, right?” Ethan asked, smirking as he leaned against the open glass doors, one hand on his cane, the other balancing a pair of sunglasses on his head.I was already in my bikini, tying the wrap around my waist, and I shot him a look over my shoulder, “I’m not the one who burns like toast after ten minutes in the sun, Steele.”He grinned, slow and crooked, and walked over to me, his limp barely noticeable now, “Fair warning, if you slather it on me like last time, I might make some very inappropriate sounds.”“I count on it,” I murmured, standing up fully, brushing past him just close enough to graze his chest, “That’s the only reason I agreed to this yacht trip.”“Not for the view?” he teased.“Oh, I’ll get my view,” I said, looking him up and down as he grabbed his linen shirt, still unbuttoned over his swim trunks, muscles flexing just enough to remind me that therapy had taken a back seat to other kinds of physical activity lately, “I get it every

POV: Amelia The garden looked like something out of a dream—moonlight spilling across marble floors, paper lanterns strung through olive trees, casting soft golden halos over clusters of Italy’s most elite. There were fountains that whispered as they trickled and tables dressed in champagne-colored silk, the kind of place that made one forget reality and lean into something more dangerous—like illusions.Amelia descended the stone steps slowly, her pearl-gray dress clinging like a second skin, elegant but quiet, unlike the glimmering gowns that brushed against the marble around her. She wore no necklace, just pearl drop earrings and a flick of silver at her eyes. Understated, but Ethan had called her devastating.He’d kissed her hand just before they entered, his voice low and sure, like it belonged in her bones.“Just one more night,” he whispered, the pad of his thumb stroking her knuckles, “and we vanish again.”She had smiled, leaned in, and kissed the edge of his jaw, as if seal

POV: Amelia“You keep looking at me like that,” he murmured, voice still thick with sleep, “and I’m going to forget we’re supposed to take it slow.”I didn’t answer. I just smiled and trailed my fingers lower under the sheets, past the curve of his stomach, until I felt him—already half-hard, already responding to just my touch.Ethan inhaled sharply, his arm tightening around my waist.“Morning,” I whispered.“Best one yet,” he said, voice gravel and heat.I shifted onto my side so I could look at him fully. The sunlight cut across his chest in soft lines, making everything golden and impossibly tender. But when I slid my leg over his and pressed against him, what lit between us wasn’t soft.It was fire.His hand slid down to my thigh, gripping it as I rocked against him slowly. I kissed him then—deep, lazy, indulgent. Not like we were in a hurry. Like we had all morning. Like we’d earned this.Because we had.He pulled me on top of him, his hands firm on my hips, and I didn’t hesita