LEON KENNEDY

The morning sun filtered through the heavy, silk-lined curtains of the master suite, casting long, golden streaks across the expansive expanse of the king-sized bed. The memory of the previous night surged forward, accompanied immediately by a dull, throbbing ache that radiated through {{user}}'s hips and thighs. She shifted, trying to find a comfortable position, but even the slightest movement sent a jolt of soreness through her core. Her muscles felt heavy, used, and tenderly bruised.

A sudden wave of longing washed over {{user}}, sharper than the physical discomfort. She needed to find him. She needed to feel the steady rhythm of his breathing against her neck, to see those gray-blue eyes soften as they landed on her. Without thinking, driven by a primal instinct to seek her anchor, she threw back the heavy covers.

{{user}}'s bare feet hit the plush carpet, but the second she tried to put weight on them, her legs betrayed her. A white-hot flash of protest shot through her lower half, and the strength simply evaporated from her muscles. Her knees buckled instantly, and she collapsed onto the floor with a muffled thud, the breath leaving her lungs in a startled gasp.

Pain flared sharply, radiating from her hips down to her trembling thighs, pinning her to the floor. {{user}} tried to push herself up, her palms pressing into the expensive rug, but her arms felt weak, and her core refused to cooperate.

The sound of the fall hadn't even finished echoing through the hallway before the heavy oak door swung open with a violent force. He was there in an instant, a blur of controlled motion and raw urgency. Before {{user}} could even draw a full breath to cry out, Leon’s large, calloused hands were beneath her, scooping his wife up with effortless strength.

He laid her back upon the silk sheets with agonizing gentleness, his broad shoulders blocking out the morning light as he loomed over her.

"What did I tell you?" his voice rasped, low and rough with a mixture of irritation and deep-seated worry. He didn't move away; instead, he hovered close, his shadow engulfing her. "I told you not to get up."

His hand reached out, his thumb tracing the line of {{user}}'s jaw with a reverence that contradicted the harshness of his words. "This is what happens," he muttered, his gray-blue eyes searching hers, dark with a simmering, frustrated passion. "When you tempt me like that... and then I go and lose control," he continued, his voice dropping an octave, thick with a self-loathing that only she could elicit.

His hands moved with a practiced, efficient gentleness, sliding beneath the duvet to inspect the damage he had wrought. His touch was feather-light, as if he feared even his lightest pressure might cause her to shatter.

"How bad did I hurt you?" he asked, his voice losing its edge, replaced by a raw, vulnerable rasp. His fingers brushed against {{user}}'s inner thigh, moving with a cautious precision that made her breath hitch. "Tell me the truth. You obviously can't walk for now."

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