The sudden unexpected event left Victoria Monroe at a loss, and before she could react, Rhys Hawthorne’s lips were already closing in.
Just as their lips were about to meet, Rhys turned his face away, deliberately avoiding her lips.
But inertia didn’t stop, his lips landed at the softest part of her neck.
Rhys did everything he could to avoid, knowing that today wasn’t the right time.
When his thin lips touched her skin, reason completely collapsed.
He forgot the gentlemanly demeanor, the courteous restraint.
His mind was consumed with one thought: so fragrant, so soft.
Victoria had a faint floral scent, not the smell of any perfume, somewhat like roses, exuding a captivating allure. ʀᴇᴀᴅ ʟᴀᴛᴇsᴛ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs ᴀᴛ NoveI[F]ire.net
Any male creature would find this scent irresistible.
He seemed like a ravenous beast, salivating at the lips, his sharp Adam’s apple rolling.
Desperate to, desperate to swallow her whole, to make her entirely his!
Victoria was also stunned; aside from acting and interaction with the opposite sex, she had never been this close to a man other than Julian Fordham.
She also didn’t know, Rhys looked so cold, yet his lips were so warm.
When they fell on her neck, it was like magma from the underworld, so scalding hot that her whole body felt ablaze.
Due to the driver’s maneuver, the car skidded, and the two were tightly embracing each other.
Rhys quickly moved his lips away, whispering softly in her ear, "Sorry, that was impolite."
Victoria didn’t see the darkness in his pupils, a dense and oppressive sky, causing unease.
He cautiously held the cat that had finally jumped into his arms, worried she might be scared away in a moment of haste.
A few seconds later, the car finally stabilized, and the driver apologized repeatedly, "Sorry, Sir, the road was too slippery."
This area is remote, with few cars, and there’s no one to spread deicing salt or clear the road, it’s inevitable something could happen.
Rhys’s low voice raspy and seductive permeated Victoria’s ear.
She looked up, meeting his gaze, which was less stern and cold, with a hint of concern in his dark eyes, "Are you okay?"
The two still maintained their embrace, Victoria seated on his lap, even nervously clutching his shirt.
The man’s neatly pressed shirt was wrinkled under her little hand’s grasping, and in her panic, she even pulled off one of his buttons.
Victoria intended to get up immediately, only to find Rhys’s collar wide open, revealing his slender collarbones.
Even the shirt was disheveled by her hand.
She forgot to escape, releasing her hand while smoothing his shirt repeatedly.
"I’m fine, it’s just your shirt... Sorry, I didn’t mean it."
Rhys didn’t move the hand resting on her waist, he looked down, observing a flustered Victoria.
In a certain sense, she had changed a lot.
Victoria, who used to be on set year-round, had an audacious aura, a sense of heroism comparable to a man.
But after being confined at home by Julian Fordham for three years, she lost that spontaneous vibe.
Like an audacious Mulan turned into a gentle and charming Juliet Linden.
More beautiful, more delicate, and even more endearing.
No wonder Julian Fordham was reluctant to let go, such a precious darling, who could bear to?
Along with it, there was an added softness in Rhys’s gaze towards Victoria, his heart feeling like it was gently stirred by feathers.
At this close distance, his beloved was just within reach; all he had to do was extend his arms to trap her in his embrace.
He watched impassively as that soft, boneless hand gently patted the shirt on his chest, the woman’s small face filled with panic, "Do you have a spare shirt?"
Actually, he did; his spare clothes were stored year-round in the trunk.
But the words turned into, "No."
People like them valued etiquette the most; every time she met Rhys, even at home, he was always neatly dressed, his shirt always buttoned to the last.
His clothes impeccably tidy, every strand of hair meticulously groomed.
For him to go out with an open collar would be too discourteous.
"Let’s stop by the mall later, I’ll make up for your shirt."
Victoria breathed a sigh of relief, suddenly aware of the loose arm resting on her waist.
She was sitting on Rhys’s lap, her small legs sliding down against his suit pants.
Their posture was ambiguous and intimate, the temperature suddenly rising...