Chapter 24
"James, what the hell is wrong with you!" I shot back without holding back, my voice breathless from being restrained but dripping with sarcasm.
The next second, in the dim light, he suddenly lowered his head and sealed my lips with a force that was almost punishing, brutal.
This wasn't a kiss—it was a conquest.
His lips and tongue forced my teeth apart with undeniable strength, plundering, tangling, and sucking on my lips without restraint.
That scorching breath of tobacco instantly overwhelmed me.
Rather than a kiss, it was more like biting.
He seemed to want to confirm my existence this way, to force out the answer he wanted.
My mind went blank for a moment. My struggling hands were pressed even harder behind my back, my body pinned tightly against the door, unable to move.
Humiliation, anger, and a trace of long-dormant physical response triggered by this sudden intimacy all tangled together, assaulting my nerves.
In the darkness, my senses were infinitely magnified.
His body temperature, the lines of his muscles, his dominating presence, and that merciless kiss that seemed to devour me—all created a dangerous, suffocating tension.
He drove straight in, sucking and biting at my body as if he wanted to tear me apart and swallow me whole.
Humiliation and anger churned like lava in my chest. I struggled desperately, my wrists twisting behind my back, my knee trying to jab at him, but he pressed down even harder, his solid legs locking mine in place, making movement impossible.
My resistance seemed to be taken as another form of provocation.
He pulled back slightly, his hot breath spraying on my cheek.
In the darkness, I could feel his burning gaze, mixed with anger at being defied and some deeper possessiveness I couldn't understand.
"What?" His voice was terribly hoarse, magnetic with desire and fury intertwined. "Now that you have Andrew backing you up, you think you can resist me? Is that why you insist on divorce?"
His misunderstanding pierced my already wounded heart like a sharp knife.
So in his eyes, all my resistance was just because I'd found a new backer?
He would never understand that what drove me away was his accumulated coldness, distrust, and repeated hurt.
"Bastard! Let me go!" I screamed hoarsely, tears welling up uncontrollably—not from fear, but from the bone-deep grievance and helplessness.
My struggles and curses seemed to excite him further.
He gave me no more chance to speak, kissing me fiercely again.
His free hand began roaming over my body, roughly pulling down my shoulder strap, cold fingers kneading my smooth back, even my breasts.
I shuddered, a strange, panic-inducing tremor shooting up my spine.
What I couldn't accept most was that despite my brain screaming in protest, my body—this body that had once shared the most intimate relationship with him, that knew his every touch—shamefully produced an instinctive response to him.
My skin grew slightly hot under his caresses, waves of tingling sensation spreading uncontrollably.
In that most private place, a trace of wetness emerged.
This split between body and mind nearly broke me.
I hated him, and I hated my traitorous body even more!
My entire consciousness began to blur. Along with the pleasure from his manipulation below, the unbearable desire in my body made me want more.
I curled up, clinging tightly to him.
Perhaps encouraged by my response, he moved even faster. His kisses traveled down my jaw, my neck, leaving wet, hot traces.
His hands grew bolder, slipping under my skirt, caressing the sensitive skin of my inner thighs.
Lost in passion, I almost gave up resisting, letting that strange pleasure drown me.
However, just as he was about to breach the final barrier, just as I thought I would completely sink into this tangle of desire, all his movements suddenly stopped without warning.
He propped himself up above me, breathing heavily.
In the darkness, I couldn't see his expression, only feel his body's tension and his suddenly changed, somewhat chaotic breathing.
He seemed suddenly struck by something, or rather, suddenly remembered something.
This abrupt stop jolted me awake from that confused state too.
Overwhelming shame poured over me like ice water. I pushed him away hard!
This time, he didn't forcefully restrain me again.
I scrambled into the suite's spacious bathroom, slammed the door, and locked it!
Leaning against the cold door, I gasped for air, my heart pounding wildly, my whole body trembling.
I turned on the faucet, and cold water gushed down.
I didn't even have time to remove the clothes he'd disheveled before sticking my head directly under the tap.
I let the bone-chilling water wash over my hair, my face, my neck, as if only this could wash away his scent, wash away my body's damned, willpower-betraying response.
The cold water made my skin break out in goosebumps, but it also gradually cleared my confused mind.
After who knew how long, there was a soft sound at the bathroom door.
I turned back in panic to see James standing in the doorway.
He had already straightened his clothes, though his shirt collar was slightly open and his hair somewhat messy.
His face no longer showed the confusion and desire from his arousal, nor the previous rage. Instead, there was a complex expression I'd never seen before, even with a hint of clumsy gentleness.
He didn't approach, just picked up a soft towel from the nearby rack, walked over, and somewhat stiffly draped it over my soaked body.
"Don't catch a cold." His voice was low but revealed a tenderness even he might not have noticed.
I watched him warily, like a frightened hedgehog.
He said nothing more, but bent down and, without allowing protest, scooped me up horizontally.
His arms were strong and steady.
"Let me go!" I started struggling again.
"Don't move." He said quietly, his tone carrying its usual authority but strangely mixed with patience.
"I won't touch you." He carried me out of the bathroom and gently placed me on the large, soft bed, wrapping me tightly in the blanket.
He sat on the edge of the bed himself, neither leaving nor making any further moves.
Only a dim bedside lamp was on in the room, casting soft light.
He just sat there quietly, looking at me, his gaze showing a focus and calm I'd never seen before, with a hint of trying to soothe.
"Sleep." He reached out, brushing away the wet strands of hair from my forehead with extreme gentleness, his movements careful, as if handling a fragile treasure.