"You know, if we keep sleeping together ..."
Morrison’s voice carried a teasing lilt, smooth and effortless, like he said such things every day—which, frankly, he did. f(r)eew(e)bnovel.(c)o(m)
Flirting came as naturally to him as breathing. All those women from his past practically begged for this kind of shameless banter.
But this time... he forgot.
She wasn’t like those women.
Lilian was as pure as freshly fallen snow when it came to love. A complete novice.
And Morrison? He was smearing thick, dark ink across that blank page.
No wonder she froze up on the other end of the line—and then burst.
"Y-you... You say shameless things like that again—or do shameless stuff—and we’re done! I mean it!"
Her voice trembled with anger, though the blush burning on her face betrayed something else entirely.
Just one offhanded comment about sharing a bed and she was already red to her ears.
But Morrison remained unbothered, lounging back as he chuckled into the phone.
"Whoa now, are you breaking up with me? Already? We’ve only been dating—what—ten days? Damn, that’s a new record. No one’s dumped me this fast before."
"I didn’t say I wanted to break up," Lilian snapped, her voice rising in frustration. "You promised we’d go at my pace—but you haven’t respected that. Not once."
"We only held hands," she continued, flustered. "And yet last night, you—you kissed me, and your hand—"
Her voice choked off. She couldn’t say the rest.
His hand had gone under her shirt.
And under her shirt... she hadn’t been wearing anything.
The heat he left on her chest hadn’t faded, even hours later. Whether it was from his touch—or her own embarrassment—she wasn’t sure.
Morrison gave a lazy sigh, as if the whole thing was just a misunderstanding.
"Hey, I couldn’t help it. You can’t expect a guy to be that close to a girl he likes and not react a little. If I didn’t touch you at all, this wouldn’t be a real relationship, now would it?"
If he didn’t like her, he wouldn’t be wasting his time playing this little romance game at all.
He wasn’t some self-sacrificing saint.
Entertaining a woman he had no interest in? That sounded like torture.
Yes, he was a flirt, and yes, he’d had plenty of flings—but his taste? Very particular. Not just any woman caught his eye.
That’s why he’d agreed to follow her pace in the first place.
That’s why he let her draw the lines—even as he tested them.
But maybe... that feeling was just like, nothing more.
Just like those other women before her—fleeting interest, momentary affection.
He had never truly pictured himself holding someone’s hand into old age.
So when Morrison casually brushed it off as a "couldn’t help myself" reaction, Lilian’s frustration only deepened.
She was about to snap back—something along the lines of, Then maybe we should just end this—
But before she could speak, his voice came through the line again.
His tone softened, almost too soft for someone like him.
"I know I broke my promise. I said I’d go at your pace, and I didn’t. That’s on me. Please don’t be mad—I swear I’ll be more careful next time."
He sounded... sincere. Humble, even.
And just like that, the words on Lilian’s tongue—those decisive, angry words—stuck in her throat.
She bit her lip and said nothing.
"Still mad?" he coaxed again, his voice dropping into a pitiful whisper. "If you are, I’ll come over and let you hit me or something. Get it out of your system."
He sounded like the one being wronged. Like he was the victim here.
Ridiculous. And yet...
Lilian finally relented, mumbling softly,
"Th-then... from now on, let’s just hold hands, okay? No more kissing. I... I feel weird when we kiss... It’s too much..."
Morrison nearly choked on air.
That hit him like a knife to the chest.
He shot upright, raising his voice in disbelief.
"Kissing me makes you feel... uncomfortable?"
Morrison repeated her words like he couldn’t quite believe them.
In his entire life, not a single woman had ever said that kissing him felt unpleasant.
He let out a dry laugh, lips curling in a way that was equal parts amused and dangerous.
In that moment, a dangerous thought flickered through his mind.
He wanted nothing more than to strip her bare, press her down beneath him, and show her—
exactly what real discomfort was.
A punishment, of course.
One that would leave her breathless, trembling, and begging him to never stop.
Lilian, completely unaware of the storm brewing on the other end of the line, continued talking—completely earnestly.
"Yeah... It’s so uncomfortable. My body feels hot... weak... all tingly. I could barely stand... like my legs just give out."
Morrison, who had just been stewing in his own frustration, suddenly let out a low chuckle—deep, amused, and utterly unrestrained.
Was that what she thought this was?
That wasn’t discomfort.
The sweet, innocent kind that came from someone who had never experienced real intimacy before.
She was so inexperienced, so untouched, she didn’t even recognize her own reaction.
The fire in his chest simmered down instantly.
In fact, hearing her describe it like that made his mood soar.
With obvious amusement in his voice, he replied gently,
"Alright then... just holding hands from now on."
Lilian narrowed her eyes slightly, still wary.
"Really?" she asked, skeptical.
He hummed lowly, almost indulgently.