Chapter 110 Chapter 110. Filth and Obsession
“If I do this, will you still dare say I hate you because you’re dirty?”
Lysander suddenly tilted her chin higher and bent down to crash his lips onto her cold ones. His kiss was aggressive, domineering, full of conquest. Ignoring her resistance, he pried her teeth apart with his tongue, invading deep into her mouth like a force storming enemy territory.
Zoria was utterly terrified. Her eyes flew wide open as she shoved Lysander with all her strength, but her hands were quickly pinned down by him. In the next instant, her body was completely restrained, unable to move. She could only endure his reckless frenzy as everything spiraled out of control.
That night on the bed, Lysander had bitten and torn at her bare skin, yet he had never touched her lips. After learning that he had an extreme obsession with cleanliness, she had assumed he found her disgusting. So what was he doing now?
Her mind felt as though it had been flooded with water, hazy and dizzy. Her breathing grew heavy, labored, like a fish thrown onto dry land.
Lysander gripped Zoria’s chin and kissed her deeply, fiercely, with abandon. For the first time, he realized just how soft her lips were, how sweet. When he finally let go, Zoria’s thin lips were swollen from his sucking.
Zoria slowly regained focus and shot Lysander a vicious glare. Then she heard him say, “Zoria, you’re not dirty at all. Got it?”
She raised a hand to wipe her lips, breathing in short, rapid gasps. Deprived of oxygen moments ago, her face was still flushed red, the color spreading all the way down her neck.
She lifted her eyes slightly and happened to meet Lysander’s expectant gaze. Her heart began to race for no clear reason, as if it were about to leap out of her chest. Zoria quickly turned her head away, avoiding the heat in his eyes.
Just a moment ago, she had fleetingly felt that Lysander might not be so bad after all. Zoria wondered whether she had already forgotten the pain Zephyr had caused her.
“I can’t accept you.”
Zoria’s brief words made the anticipation on Lysander’s face drop by half. He licked his lips, as if savoring the lingering warmth, the sweetness that still seemed to cling to them from Zoria’s mouth.
“It’s normal that you can’t accept me yet. After all, you just broke the bond with Zephyr.” Lysander nodded as if in agreement, completely unaware that the real reason for her refusal lay in his very nature.
After speaking, he stared at Zoria and softened his voice. “Zoria, I can wait.”
Zoria replied calmly, “Don’t waste your time.”
Thinking it through, Zoria actually understood Lysander’s mindset. He was eerily similar to Zephyr. Both of them were intensely possessive, always convinced that whatever they couldn’t have was the best. The more she resisted, the more she rejected them, the more their competitive instincts seemed to flare up.
Dealing with people like them gave Zoria a headache. Just one Zephyr had already drained her completely, and now there was another Lysander.
If she had to compare the two, Lysander seemed a little more “decent” than Zephyr. Aside from that night’s transaction, he had maintained a basic level of courtesy toward her.
Lysander merely smiled it off and said, “I don’t think spending time on you is a waste. Besides, I’ve already moved in next door to your rental. We’ll have plenty of time to get to know each other.”
When lunchtime came, Lysander took Zoria to a restaurant. Faced with a table full of delicious food, she still had no appetite at all.
After forcing herself to eat a few bites, her stomach felt painfully bloated, so stretched it made her nauseous, her head spinning as well. Zoria didn’t think much of it, assuming her body simply hadn’t recovered yet after the exhausting days of moving and cleaning.
Seeing that she truly couldn’t eat anymore, Lysander asked for the check. Zoria glanced at the bill and saw the amount: seven thousand dollars.
She couldn’t help clicking her tongue. One single meal cost seven thousand dollars. Even back when Everhart hadn’t fallen on hard times, she’d never spent money so recklessly.
Lysander drove Zoria back to her rental, stopping by to check on the renovation of his own apartment along the way. It would still be a while before he could move in, but Lysander acted as if he couldn’t wait another day, as though he wanted to settle in immediately.
The moment he stepped into the corridor, a foul stench hit him in the face. He frowned, and for a fleeting second even considered buying up the entire block and renovating it, wiping out the unpleasant odor clinging to what he already regarded as his territory.
The apartment was still mid-renovation, tools piled up and blocking the doorway so thoroughly that it was almost impossible to go inside. Lysander took a quick look, then headed over to Zoria’s rental instead.
Zoria quickened her pace, holding onto Hamburger’s leash as she opened the door. She was just about to close it when Lysander suddenly stuck his right foot forward, wedging it straight into the gap. If Zoria slammed the door shut, he would instantly put on a show of agony, as if his leg had been crushed. Startled, she jumped back and hurriedly loosened her grip, but she still stood in front of the door, refusing to let him in.
Lysander studied her for two seconds, then let a pitiful look surface in his eyes. “My place isn’t even finished yet. You’re really going to leave me standing outside?”
Zoria didn’t dare shut the door hard, afraid she might actually hurt his foot. The moment her hand relaxed even slightly, Lysander seized the chance and forced half his body inside.
Zoria sighed. Looking up at Lysander, who stood a full head taller than her, she snapped, “What does it have to do with me whether your place is being renovated or not?”
But it was useless to argue. Lysander had already decided this was his house too.
“We’re friends, aren’t we? Friends are supposed to help each other.”
Zoria thought to herself, Who’s friends with you?
Lysander lazily dropped onto the sofa and watched Zoria crouch down to feed Hamburger. Her shirt had ridden up, exposing a slim waist and the deep hollows at her lower back. She was far too thin; even the line of her spine showed faintly through the fabric.
His gaze drifted down unconsciously and settled on the curve of her hips. An image flashed through his mind of Zoria dressed in delicate lace. Just the thought of it was enough to drive him mad.