Chapter 161 The More You Run Away, the More I Want You.

Chapter 161 The More You Run Away, the More I Want You.
"I—I'll fight you to the death!" A hint of tremor crept into Lydia’s indignant voice, making Ethan chuckle hoarsely.
"Baby, let's see who's stronger in bed. Don’t try to kill me. Uncle’s afraid you won’t be able to go through with it again!”
He leaned down to kiss her.
Lydia turned her head to dodge him, but his fingertips gripped her chin tighter.
"You..."
His kiss swallowed her words and invaded her every breath.
"Snap!"
With a gentle tug, Ethan ripped open his shirt, sending all the buttons flying to the floor.
His collarbone was sexy, leading down to his firm pectorals.
He tossed his belt onto the floor, landing it on top of Lydia’s skirt.
From the entryway to the living room, Lydia’s steps became erratic as she struggled.
Her beautiful, slender neck arched.
Ethan cupped the back of her head with his large hand and pressed her against his chest.
Her hair tangled around the cross on Ethan’s wrist like an inextricable knot.
Ethan scooped her up in his arms.
Lydia gasped and kicked her legs in the air. "Let go! Put me down!"
Ignoring her, he strode into the bedroom and pressed her whole body into the mattress.
Lydia pressed her hands against his chest, her fingernails digging into his hard muscles.
Yet, she didn’t have the strength to push him away, not even a little.
“Four days.” Ethan leaned down, brushing his nose against her earlobe.
His voice was hoarse. “Do you know how I spent these four days?”
"What does it matter to me? Get off me!"
Before she could finish, he silenced her.
He clamped down on both her wrists, pinning them above her head.
With his other hand, he slid down the curve of her waist, his fingertips brushing against her lower abdomen.
"I want you." He bit her lower lip, his breath hot and ragged. “Don’t hold back. You’re wet.”
Lydia’s face flushed.
She turned her head away to avoid his scorching gaze.
Her struggles gradually changed as his knee moved between her thighs.
She clutched the hem of his shirt so tightly that her knuckles turned white.
“No…Please…”
"But your body was begging for it," Ethan chuckled, his forehead pressed against hers. “Scream it out—I want to hear it.”
She bit her lip, refusing to make a sound.
The clink of a belt buckle, the rustle of fabric, and their entwined breaths blended into a cacophony.
Outside the window, the night was thick and heavy.
Only her sobs remained, swallowed up by him.
Their bodies were tangled together on the bed.

It wasn’t until dawn the next day that Boris returned.
He walked to the sink, washed the bloodstains from his hand, and opened the door to the presidential suite on the top deck of the cruise ship.
Ever since losing his sense of smell after being poisoned by an unknown plant in the Amazon rainforest, his hearing had become exceptionally keen.
Was there a faint, delicate sound coming from inside the suite?
Blushing, he paused and waited outside.
Only after the cabin fell completely silent did he tap the door twice and call out tentatively, "Mr. Edwards?"
“Come in!”
Ethan held a cigarette between his fingertips.
His brow was relaxed as he took a leisurely drag before getting up to open the door.
A bath towel hung loosely around his waist as he walked.
The small dip in his lower back was still glistening with a thin sheen of sweat—sweat and a suggestive trace.
Boris glanced at the closed door.
It seemed Lydia had fallen asleep from exhaustion.
From last night until ten in the morning, Ethan didn't even let her rest for a while.
Boris tiptoed after Ethan to the sofa in the living room of the suite.
“How’s the investigation into last night going?” Ethan asked, leaning casually against the sofa.
He leaned forward and flicked some ash into the ashtray.
Boris said, "The guy who fired at you at the racetrack last night was Grant.”
Ethan tucked the cigarette back into the corner of his mouth and smoked with a grim expression. “Grant? He must’ve lost his mind sleeping his way through a harem to come here looking for a beating.”
Boris nodded. "When I went to South Korea to follow up on Patrick’s scar removal, Grant shot at me the moment I stepped off the plane."
Ethan exhaled a puff of smoke and chuckled. “Looks like Grant isn’t just causing trouble for me because of the grudge over my cousin’s death.”
Boris looked up at him. “Mr. Edwards, are you saying Grant works for Chama?”
Ethan leaned back on the sofa, smoking leisurely.
Boris added, "Last night, the people around Grant were all from the Donovan family."
Ethan raised his eyebrow. “The Donovans are stirring up trouble, too? Didn’t you take care of that bastard last night?"