Chapter 201 201
Mathieu was already fast asleep in his room. The apartment had fallen quiet with the late hour, yet sleep remained impossibly far from Jacqueline. She lay awake, staring into the darkness as the events of the day replayed relentlessly in her mind.
The way Damien had claimed her.
The words still echoed in her head, refusing to fade. She couldn’t push that moment away no matter how hard she tried. Everything about it felt unreal, almost dreamlike. In the span of only a few hours, the direction of her entire life seemed to have shifted.
She had never expected anything like this.
At first, she had assumed he had returned only to mock her. The way he ignored her earlier had convinced her of that. But what happened in that empty classroom… that was something else entirely.
What had changed?
The last thing she remembered from the past was that Damien loved someone else. Yet today he had stood in front of her and openly declared that she belonged to him.
The memory of his touch made her shiver.
His lips.
His hands.
The way his fingers moved against her.
A tremor ran through her body just from remembering it.
She was grateful she had left the university early. If she hadn’t, her friends would have bombarded her with endless questions, and the teasing alone would have lasted forever. She still couldn’t erase the stunned expressions on their faces when Damien had dragged her chair beside his in class.
With a frustrated sigh, Jacqueline pushed herself out of bed and padded toward the kitchen for water.
She opened the refrigerator and rummaged around until she found a bottle of juice. Pouring herself a glass, she drank it in one long gulp before rinsing the glass and placing it back in the sink.
After turning off the tap, she pivoted to head back to her room.
A gasp tore from her throat.
Her hand flew over her mouth, smothering the scream that almost escaped as her wide eyes locked onto the man standing in the doorway.
Damien.
He was leaning casually against the wall beside the doorframe as though he had been there for some time.
Her heart pounded violently as she pressed a hand to her chest, trying to calm the frantic rhythm.
Her gaze darted toward the front door.
She was certain she had locked it.
“H–how did y–you get in?” she stammered.
She didn’t know why she sounded like a frightened kitten. The man standing before her was Damien but the way he had appeared so silently in her apartment was unsettling. It sent chills creeping up her spine.
And another thought struck her.
How did he even know where she lived?
He didn’t answer.
Instead, she felt his gaze traveling slowly over her body.
Heat prickled across her skin as his dark eyes moved from her head to her feet, lingering in a way that made her pulse quicken.
Her eyes dropped downward.
Only then did she realize what she was wearing.
Her stomach twisted.
The oversized shirt hanging off her shoulders was his the one that had somehow become hers. And beneath it… she wore nothing at all.
Her thighs instinctively pressed together.
Embarrassed, she tried tugging the hem lower, but the motion only caused the fabric to slip off one shoulder, exposing more skin instead of covering it.
“T…the door was locked,” she murmured softly, her eyes still fixed on the floor, confusion clouding her thoughts. His sudden appearance had nearly scared the life out of her.
Without responding, Damien turned and began walking toward her bedroom.
Jacqueline stared after him in bewilderment.
How did he even know which room was hers?
She remained frozen where she stood, unsure of what to do. Should she follow him? What if he was simply looking for the bathroom?
Her thoughts tangled into a confused mess.
“Jacq.”
His deep voice rolled from the bedroom.
Her ears perked immediately.
Drawing in a steadying breath, she slowly walked toward the room and stopped in the doorway, hesitant to step fully inside.
Damien stood near the foot of the bed.
His tall frame dominated the small space, making the room feel even smaller than it already was.
“I’m hungry,” he muttered.
Jacqueline blinked.
“Oh.”
She nodded quickly and turned on her heel.
“I’ll get you something to eat. Just give me five or ten minutes ahh!”
A startled cry escaped her when a large hand suddenly clamped around her wrist and jerked her backward.
Her back collided with a hard chest.
She turned to look up at him with wide, innocent brown eyes.
Damien inhaled deeply through his nose.
“I said I’m hungry,” he repeated in a rough voice, sounding strangely irritated.
Her brows knit together in confusion.
Was he really here because he was hungry?
“O–okay. I… I’m going to make something for you,” she said quickly, trying to hurry toward the kitchen again.
But Mr. Frosty clearly had no intention of letting her go.
She glanced down at the hand still gripping her wrist.
When she tried to pull away, his hold only tightened.
His eyes bore into hers intensely.
“You have to let go of my wrist,” she said gently, speaking as if explaining something obvious. “You’re hungry, remember? I can only make something if you let me go into the kitchen.”
“Get on the bed,” he said flatly as he released her.
She blinked in surprise, watching him walk away.
Damien moved to the door, pushed it closed, and locked it. The sharp click echoed through the room.
When he turned back toward her, her breath caught in her throat.
“I’m hungry,” he repeated, his voice low and husky. “Get on the bed.”
The meaning behind his words struck her instantly.
Her cheeks flushed a deep red.
So that was the hunger he meant.
She tried to keep her expression calm, to act as though she wasn’t melting inside, but she already felt weak and unsteady and he hadn’t even touched her yet.
Slowly, obediently, she walked toward the bed.
Each step felt heavier than the last.
Climbing onto the mattress, she settled in the middle with her legs tucked beneath her. Her fingers laced together nervously as she fidgeted with them.
“Remove it,” Damien rasped.
He advanced toward the bed and stopped at its edge.
Jacqueline drew in a shaky breath before lifting her hands to the buttons of the shirt.
She undid the first one.
Then the next.
And the next.
She moved painfully slow, her fingers working through each button with trembling hesitation.
Damien’s patience visibly began to wear thin.
When the last button was undone, she hesitated again.
Damien placed one knee on the bed and leaned closer.
His large, veined hand suddenly wrapped around her throat not choking, but firm enough to control her movement as he pulled her upward onto her knees.
The loose shirt barely concealed her breasts now.
“Strip,” he ordered.
His deep voice vibrated through the room, sending a shiver racing down her spine.
Slowly, she lifted her gaze.
Dark olive eyes locked with her warm brown ones.