Chapter 65 Irremovable Deep Wounds
Jack felt unbearably hot. All he wanted was another shower and then to crash in bed for a good night's sleep.
He'd deal with Aimée tomorrow. Plenty of time for that.
He locked the door, and only after hearing the click did he start undressing, feeling a sense of relief.
Piece by piece...
Jack was soon completely naked.
On his way to the bathroom, he noticed Alison still sound asleep on the big bed, completely unaware that tonight she would be caught in a dream from which she couldn't escape.
Shirt, pants, shoes, even his underwear...
His clothes fell one by one onto the carpeted floor as he made his way to the bathroom.
He had a habit, one that had been with him for a long time. He liked the dark, liked to slowly ease the deep pain in his heart with the sound of a woman's breath at night.
Originally, he had planned to spend the night with Aimée.
But when he brought her to her room, for some reason, he suddenly wanted to delay that moment.
Because Aimée was different from other women.
Those women, he could have them if he wanted, and if he didn't, he could just pay them off and never see them again. He could discard them without hesitation, but not Aimée.
This was all because Aimée's mother had once saved his mother.
After that, his mother had gotten close to the Rolland family and had always urged him to marry Aimée.
He stepped into the bathroom barefoot, turned on the shower, and cold water quickly poured down. He wanted to use the cold water to extinguish the heat in his body.
So hot, so hot.
But even after soaking in cold water, he still felt hot.
The drinks at the bar had been a bit off.
But he couldn't focus on that now.
He splashed water on himself, washing away the sweat, and grabbed a towel to dry off.
Usually, a bottle of alcohol was nothing to him, but this first bottle in France had gotten to him a bit.
He seemed drunk, but also somewhat sober.
After drying off, he tossed the towel aside and walked out of the bathroom naked.
He was used to sleeping naked, finding it both comforting and relaxing.
The room was still pitch dark, but his body was burning up.
For some reason, he felt itchy all over, unbearably so, and suddenly he had a strong desire for a woman.
That desire was so intense it was unbearable.
In a daze, he walked to the bed and turned on the bedside lamp, intending to light a cigarette to clear his head.
The cigarettes were on the nightstand, the kind sold by the hotel.
He reached for a cigarette, struck a match, and took a deep drag, hoping it would ease the discomfort from the alcohol, but it didn't help.
He still felt unbearably uncomfortable.
His eyes shifted, and in the dim light, he saw a woman's body lying on the bed.
With just one glance, Jack's attention was captured.
The woman was lying on her side, her waist looking particularly slender.
Wait, did he go into the wrong room?
But looking around, this room was identical to his.
He walked to the door, opened it, and looked out. No, it was the third room.
In his daze, he convinced himself this was his room.
Suddenly, he realized it was Aimée!
She must have snuck into his bed while he was showering.
That had to be it.
He haphazardly analyzed the situation, not knowing if it was true, but the heat in his body was already unbearable.
Since she had come to him willingly, and it was what his mother wanted, he wouldn't hold back.
Was she asleep? She wasn't moving at all, lying there like a mermaid waiting for him.
Jack always preferred doing it in the dark.
The darkness let him forget who the woman beneath him was, as long as it was a woman, as long as it could fill the void in his heart.
He gently pressed the switch, and the room plunged back into darkness.
Barefoot, Jack quickly and silently approached the bed, his heart pounding.
Like a dragon, he threw himself onto the bed, causing the mattress to sink.
The woman's scent immediately filled his nostrils, mixed with a faint hint of body wash.
Jack couldn't think anymore, waves of desire surged through him, and he could only feel the woman's outline in the dark.
Soft, slender.
He placed a hand on the woman's waist, expecting her to turn around immediately, wrapping around him like a snake, demanding more.
That was the usual trick of those women, and they were all experts. But that kind of satisfaction was only physical, it couldn't fill the emptiness in his soul.
However, this woman remained motionless on the bed.
"Aimée..." he called softly.
The woman still didn't move.
His hand slowly moved up from the hem of her thin nightgown, and when it reached her chest, it seemed to be glued there, unwilling to move away.
Everything in his body seemed to reach its limit, but he still held back.
He enjoyed this slow pace because it made the final release all the more satisfying.
It was his instinctive reaction.
His fingertips touched her skin through the nightgown, and he gently squeezed her breast. She seemed to feel the pain, letting out a soft moan, her body moving slightly, then slowly turning to face him.
At this moment, their eyes met, but the darkness made everything blurry, just as he wanted.
Not being able to see clearly was good, it added a sense of mystery, making everything feel unreal, something he could easily forget afterward.
He didn't want to remember nights like this.
It was just a basic human need.
The faint scent lingered, and he greedily inhaled, finding the smell pleasant. It wasn't just the body wash, but also the unique fragrance of the woman.
It intoxicated him.
His mouth slowly lowered, and by feeling the contours of her face, he accurately found her lips.
When their lips touched, his body trembled, the sensation both familiar and strange.
He felt confused, unable to explain what was happening.
The kiss deepened.
Lips and tongue began to explore the fragrant mouth.
Her lips were so soft, he liked it.
But how could Aimée sleep so soundly? Didn't she want him?
But now that he was here, she was still deeply asleep.
Feeling her unresponsive body, he got a bit angry.
No, he had to ignite all the passion in her body.
He bit her lip, his tongue teasing her, but she remained lazy, like a sleepy kitten, unable to wake up.
This frustrated him.
Although he wouldn't fall in love with a woman, he liked every intimate encounter to be perfect, not just seen as a mere transaction.
It was as if he sought more than just a woman's body, and the woman seemed to want more than just his wealth.
Because of this, the women who had been with him were always enchanted by his tenderness, always wanting more...
His hand moved over her body as he kissed her, moving upward.
But the woman in his arms didn't react much, it seemed Aimée's desire for him wasn't as strong as he had imagined.
Could a woman's true love really be as light as water yet unforgettable?
He didn't understand.
Because he was a man.