In all their years of sharing a bed, Nicolas had never once slept naked. Why he's doing it now, she didn’t even want to figure it out.

Emily remembered the one time she’d dared to joke about it, suggesting they sleep nude to feel each other’s warmth and snuggle close. His response had been cold and really cruel.

The way he’d looked at her with disgust curling his lips and something close to hate in his eyes had silenced her permanently on the matter.

Worse, he had accused her of trying to take advantage of him. “You know I’m a deep sleeper. You probably want to use my body as you please” he’d snapped, as if she were some kind of predator.

She had never brought it up again but she had dreamt about it.

Now, lying stiffly beneath the sheets, Emily stared at the ceiling. Her body ached with tension, her nerves rising with every breath she took. She turned to her side, trying to quiet the sound of alarm in her head.

Then she felt the mattress move.

Nicolas slid in beside her, the faint rustle of the sheets the only indication of his presence. His movements were slow, careful. It almost seemed controlled or calculated.

As always, he kept to his side of the bed like there was an invisible line drawn down the center. One neither of them was allowed to cross.

She should have been grateful. After all, it was safer this way. She couldn’t trust herself if he got too close. Not tonight. Not like this.

But awareness prickled over her skin regardless.

He was next to her… naked. For the first time.

Her breath caught. She didn’t have to look, she could feel the heat of his skin radiating across the small space between them. It reached her, daring her to move, to break her own rule.

He didn’t move closer.

He's still the same asshole, he's just naked to tempt me… she told herself bitterly. He always keeps his distance unless he wants to have sex with her.

It's not like he's ever had sex with her out of love, he just wanted a kid. A baby factory that's what she was to him.

Emily never initiated sex with him. Not anymore at least. She had tried a few times but he either turned away or told her to go fuck herself. She had cried a lot whenever he turned down her advances but eventually she accepted her fate.

Unfortunately for her, now that she had told him she doesn't want to have sex with him, her mind and body was betraying her with need for him.

She curled into herself slowly. She refused to look his way no matter how badly she wanted to. The tension between them was sharper than ever.

He was awake. She could feel it. The steady rhythm of his breath wasn’t deep enough for sleep, and she knew he could probably sense her wakefulness too. Her body was too stiff, she couldn’t relax.

Then the silence broke suddenly.

“Don't be scared, princess. You can go to sleep,” he said, his voice was dark with annoyance and impatience. “I know you're probably wondering why I'm naked and you think I'm up to something but I'm not. So don't worry baby girl, shut your eyes.”

She tensed even more and let out a sigh.

He swore under his breath.

“Well, since we can't sleep now, why don't we do something to tire ourselves?” he murmured, voice low and mischievous, “I know the perfect thing for us to do.”

Her stomach dipped. She didn’t need to ask what he meant.

“I'm trying to fall asleep, stop talking to me,” she snapped through clenched teeth.

He chuckled, the sound smug. “Are you really sure you want to go to sleep now, princess…”

“Yes, Nicolas. Yes I want to sleep as soon as possible so do me a favour and be quiet.” She rolled her eyes in the dark.

“Do you know you’re being really immature right now?” he said, with a laugh that made her want to turn around and slap him in the face.

“You're the one being immature you little-,” she shot back, flipping over to face him.

His face was mostly hidden in shadows, but she could feel his face was filled with rage.

She sighed. “Please just let me sleep. I'm not interested in doing whatever you have in mind.”

“You’re such a Liar, princess,” he said calmly, reaching out to pat her hair gently.

She flinched at his unusual act of gentleness.

“You cannot really be serious about not wanting to have my dick inside you,” he continued. “I can understand a bit why you want to get a divorce but no sex? That's just crazy.”

“Call it whatever you want to call it. I'm not interested and I mean it. It's not like I'll die if I don't have sex with you.” she replied quietly but tried to sound confident.

“Was I not good enough for you?” he said, voice clipped.

“That’s definetely not it, Nicolas. You’re very good.” Admitting that left a bitter taste in her mouth. “But, like I said, I'm not interested so can we go to sleep now?”

“You’re not interested?” he echoed angrily.

“I'm just not—”

“Just not what?” His voice sharpened.

“Stop being this way for fucks sake, Nicolas.”

Wrong thing to say.

She could practically feel him bristle beside her. The silence between them swelled until it felt unbearable.

“Fine, Emily. Have it your way, we'll talk about this later.”

“I just feel that we shouldn't—”

“I said we will talk about this later so stop,” he warned, voice low and dangerous.

“I know but still we—”

In one breathless moment, his body above hers, his weight pressing her into the mattress.

She gasped, struggling, her palms pushing against the firm planes of his chest.

“You should’ve listened when I asked you to stop,” he growled.

“Yeah, I should. Now go away.” Her voice was a furious whisper.

“No.” He settled against her, using his hand to part her legs against her will, his body sliding into place between them. His skin was hot and his muscles were rigid.

Her stomach and hips were now exposed and she could feel his bare dick rubbing against her skin. He kept moving slowly on her body on purpose.

His lips grazed her chin, his breath hot against her skin. As usual, he avoided her mouth deliberately before tracing soft kisses from her chin to her ear.

She shivered and felt heat rise in her core.

But the fact she didn't want to be played cleared her mind of every desire.

“Please stop. I can't do this,” she said firmly, bracing her hands against his chest again, shoving hard. He didn’t budge.

“Yes, you can, princess. I know you want me,” he murmured.

“No I do not. Do you know what you're doing is called?” she said. Her voice hard and clear. “It's sexual assault.”

He froze.

Then, slowly, he shifted off her, rolling onto his side of the bed.

“Sexual Assault? For fucks sake you're my wife…it's my right,” he snapped, his voice raw.

Emily didn’t flinch. “Using force makes it an assault. Being married doesn't mean you can do whatever you like whenever you want to.”

“How can you even say this?” he bit out. “I didn’t even use force.”

“You literally climbed on top of me naked and refused to get off when I asked. That's force.”

He didn’t respond. She could feel him seething. His ego and dominance were bruised.

But she didn’t care.

For once, she had summoned the courage to draw the line.

She turned away from him, her back stiff, her body still hot with the aftershocks of what had almost happened. Eventually, exhaustion won out over tension, and she drifted into a restless sleep.