Chapter 57 Again Playing Him
Chapter 57 Again Playing Him
That was during her barren teenage years - the clumsiest yet most effective rebellion she could think of to steal a little time for herself from the endless chores and favoritism.
Shane's arms around her tightened slightly. He said nothing more, just buried his face in the crook of her neck, a low, amused rumble vibrating from his chest.
That laughter was like a feather, gently tickling her heart, sweeping away all the unpleasantness and awkwardness from last night.
As breakfast was almost ready, Monica suddenly felt an itch on her back.
She shifted her shoulders but couldn't reach it, so naturally turned her head, looking up at the man still holding her, her tone taking on a slightly coquettish note: "Shane, scratch my back for me - left side, a little below the shoulder blade."
Shane looked down at her, those deep eyes still carrying traces of amusement. He didn't refuse. His free hand slipped precisely into her loose robe, finding the spot she mentioned through the thin silk fabric.
His fingertips, slightly calloused, applied just the right pressure. Each scratch through the fabric felt like it carried a faint electric current, making Monica's body tremble involuntarily.
"Mm..." She closed her eyes in comfort, a satisfied little hum escaping her throat - soft and sweet, like a cat being petted just right.
That unconscious murmur was like a spark, instantly igniting the suppressed darkness deep in Shane's eyes.
His hand paused. The arm around her suddenly tightened, his burning lips almost brushing her ear, his voice impossibly hoarse: "Monica, do you know what you're doing?"
Monica's body instantly froze as she belatedly realized how provocative her action had been.
The dangerous, scorching aura from him surrounded her completely. She could even feel the tense changes in his body.
Her heartbeat lost its rhythm in an instant.
Just as Shane gripped her chin, about to kiss her, Monica suddenly exclaimed "Oh!" as if remembering something, and pushed him away hard, slipping out of his embrace.
"Um... I think I got my period, my stomach feels a bit off, I need to use the bathroom!"
With that, she ran out of the kitchen without looking back, as if fleeing for her life.
Shane stood frozen, watching her panicked retreat, then looked down at himself. Her faint fragrance still lingered in the air.
A few seconds later, he finally realized.
This woman was playing him again.
Shane laughed in exasperation. He turned off the stove, plated the sandwiches, unhurriedly removed his apron, and strode after her with his long legs.
Monica had just slipped into the bedroom and hadn't yet closed the door when a burning hot hand grabbed her wrist. The next second, an irresistible force pulled her back out, and her back hit the cold hallway wall hard.
Shane braced one hand beside her ear, completely trapping her between himself and the wall, his tall figure casting an overwhelmingly oppressive shadow.
"Stomach doesn't feel good?" He leaned down, his handsome face filling her vision, those bottomless eyes flashing with danger. "Let me take a look?"
Monica's heart jumped at his appearance, but knowing he wouldn't really do anything to her, she stubbornly raised her chin. Her eyes darted around, and she simply decided to own it.
She didn't dodge or hide. Instead, she met his gaze, her lips curving into a mischievous, wicked smile, brazenly admitting: "I did it on purpose. So what?"
That look of deliberate provocation and shameless defiance was like a little fox who'd successfully stolen a treat and was now proudly wagging its tail at its owner.
Shane looked at the playful, lively glint in her eyes. The fire of desire she'd stirred up was strangely doused by that smile, leaving only a chest full of helpless exasperation.
He stared at her for a few seconds, and finally couldn't help but tap her smooth forehead with his finger - not too hard, not too soft - grinding out two words through his teeth: "Little vixen."
With that, he released her and, as if too frustrated to bother anymore, turned and strode quickly into the bathroom.
Soon, the sound of rushing water came from inside again.
Monica leaned against the wall, listening to that familiar sound of cold water, and finally couldn't hold back - she laughed until her whole body went weak.
Covering her mouth, she laughed all the way back to the bedroom, then threw herself onto the soft bed, hugging the blanket and rolling around excitedly.
Victory!
This feeling of having Shane wrapped around her finger, watching him lose control over her yet being helpless to do anything about it - it felt absolutely amazing!
When Shane came out of the bathroom, the atmosphere between them had returned to normal.
He urged Monica, who was still giggling foolishly on the bed, to come eat, while he sat at the dining table with his coffee.
"Your brother's wedding is tomorrow. What are you planning to give?" Shane flipped through the financial newspaper, asking seemingly casually.
The smile on Monica's face instantly faded.
She knew that her mother's sudden change of attitude, even taking the initiative to be friendly, couldn't possibly be from a sudden attack of conscience - Shane must have had something to do with it.
She just didn't know what method he'd used to solve this problem that she herself had been helpless against.
She didn't want him to go. She didn't want him to see the truest, ugliest side of that family, and she definitely didn't want him to get tangled up with those awful people because of her.
"I'll just go by myself," Monica stirred the milk in her cup, her voice dropping, gently refusing. "It wouldn't be appropriate for you to come with me. My family would get the wrong idea."
She looked at him pleadingly, her tone very soft: "Shane, don't go, okay?"
Shane's hand paused mid-page turn.
He slowly raised his eyes. Those eyes that had just regained their clarity darkened again, as if covered by a layer of impenetrable frost.
In her view, he was still an "inappropriate" outsider after all.
Monica watched his face suddenly turn cold, her heart clenching sharply, knowing she'd said the wrong thing again.
She guiltily bit her lip, about to explain, when Shane suddenly stood up and slammed the newspaper shut.
The last trace of warmth in Shane's eyes disappeared completely. He let go of the paper, turned and walked away, his steps quick and heavy.
"Where are you going?" Monica's heart sank. Almost instinctively, she rushed forward and hugged him from behind, pressing her face tightly against his broad back.
The man's body instantly stiffened, his muscles taut like iron.
"Let go." His voice was cold, devoid of any warmth.
"I won't," Monica held on tighter, her voice carrying panic and a nasal tone she hadn't even noticed herself. "Shane, don't leave."
"Leave?" Shane sounded like he'd heard the biggest joke, laughing bitterly, his laughter full of self-mockery and coldness.
He forcefully tried to pry her hands off, his tone mocking: "Where would I go? Didn't you just say I'm not appropriate, that I'd make your family misunderstand? Since I'm so unimportant, of course I should get lost as far away as possible."