Chapter 78 I've Already Thrown the Book Away
Iris' sobs had barely grown louder when Donovan silenced them with a kiss.
His tongue slipped inside the moment she opened her mouth to breathe. It was so forceful that it felt as if he were trying to swallow her whole. He crushed her faint resistance bit by bit as their tongues entwined in a deep, tangled kiss.
Iris instinctively tried to bite down, but Donovan anticipated it.
He quickly pulled away from her lips and kissed her flushed cheek instead.
Releasing his grip on her right wrist, he lazily wrapped his fingers around her neck. His fingertips carried profound meaning as they caressed her skin.
“Don’t bite.”
Iris fell silent instantly.
She had seen men die in a single second once Donovan had his hand around their throats.
Whenever his hand was on her neck—even if he was merely holding it lightly—fear welled up inside her.
Then, the man moved his lips to trace the tip of her nose before covering her delicate lips once more, probing deeper with greater abandon.
With no resistance, Donovan explored freely and delightfully between Iris' lips and teeth.
The kiss was tender and lingering yet intensely aggressive.
Ambiguous sounds intertwined in the silent room.
To Donovan, Iris' feeble struggles all became the shy hesitation of someone who wanted to refuse yet craved it.
It’s so sweet. I can't get enough of the kiss.
Iris wept in despair.
She had no room to resist and was forced to endure and comply.
As the kiss deepened, Donovan’s breath grew hotter and his urge intensified.
His hand, which had been resting on her neck, began to slide downward. It traced her delicate collarbone and slipped beneath the hem of her top, touching the slender, smooth skin of her waist.
His phone rang at that moment.
Donovan snapped out of his trance as if waking from a dream. He looked down at the little kitten beneath him.
Her eyes were tightly shut, and tears streaked her face, rolling into her hair on either side and leaving dark smudges.
A vivid blush flushed her snow-white cheeks, and her full, glossy lips were parted slightly as she panted, revealing a hint of her pale pink tongue. She was innocent yet unwittingly alluring.
Donovan stared at her, his Adam's apple bobbing slightly.
A few seconds later, he rolled over, pulling Iris up with him and drawing her into his embrace.
He pulled out his phone and answered just as the ringtone ended.
“Speak!”
The man’s voice was terrifyingly hoarse, brimming with the aggression of someone who’d been interrupted. Harrison, on the other end of the line, froze for a moment before speaking.
"Amos has been dealt with as you ordered. He was just taken back to his home. The private jet will arrive shortly. Should we leave now?”
"Mm."
Donovan hung up the phone.
Iris was still sobbing quietly in his arms.
In less than two weeks, her injuries would be fully healed.
By then, she wouldn't be able to run away, even if she wanted to.
After a moment, Donovan cupped Iris' face and forced her to look up. He kissed away the last traces of tears at the corners of her eyes.
"We don't have to," he said, his voice carrying a hint of compromise yet leaving no room for argument. "Iris, go pack your things right now. Come with me.”
At exactly 10:00 a.m., the private jet roared off the runway at Anaheim Airport.
Harrison sat in a plush seat on the left side of the cabin and watched out of the corner of his eye as Donovan and Iris sat facing each other on the right. The atmosphere between them was tense.
Donovan had dragged Iris onto the plane while she was crying.
She was crying her eyes out!
Harrison noticed that whenever Iris was with Donovan, she seemed to cry every single day.
Maybe the boss should take a cue from Wright on how to treat a woman gently.
However, the thought of Donovan trying to comfort a woman made Harrison shudder involuntarily.
He couldn't imagine the scene—it was too bizarre!
It wasn’t until the plane had been flying smoothly for over two hours that Iris' near-collapse finally subsided.
She took ointment, a small mirror, and a cotton swab out of her carry-on bag and began applying ointment to the tiny cuts on her cheeks.
Through the mirror, she could clearly see the bite mark on her neck.
It had stopped bleeding but looked terribly swollen, turning purplish-blue from the bruising beneath the skin.
Iris lifted her eyes and shot a quick glance at Donovan, who was sitting across from her.
There wasn't a trace of remorse on his face. He was sipping wine from a stemmed glass, looking content, his gaze fixed out the window. Only his resolute, chiseled profile was visible.
Iris looked away, holding a cotton swab, ready to apply ointment to the bite mark on her neck. Suddenly, Donovan spoke, “Don’t put anything on it.”
Iris thought she’d misheard him and looked up at him again.
He set his wine glass down on the tabletop in front of him, his calm eyes fixed on her.
"Don’t put any ointment on it.”
He repeated it gently, reaching out to cup her neck gently. The pad of his thumb rubbed the bite mark with just the right amount of pressure.
“Ouch…”
Iris let out a soft whimper but didn’t dare pull away.
Donovan said nothing more, simply continuing to gently massage her wound as if waiting for something or handling a possession of his own.
Seeing this, Iris set down the cotton swab, tilted her face up, and looked at him with utter submission. She whispered, "I won't put any ointment on it."
"Mm."
The flight was long and tedious.
Iris pulled a novel out of her backpack—a campus romance she’d borrowed specifically from the school library.
The male lead was a street thug who’d entered the workforce early; the female lead was a wealthy heiress raised under strict parental discipline.
Iris had only read the beginning: The kindhearted heroine accidentally saved the male lead from a mob beating. One day, the male lead barged into the classroom with his crew while the heroine was in class.
Iris had barely opened the book on the desk when a large hand snatched it away.
Donovan, who was sitting across from her, flipped through the pages casually, his gaze settling on the character profiles. His well-defined eyebrows arched slightly as if he found it amusing.
“Iris,” he said, looking up at her. “Do you like reading stories about bad boys?”
Iris' cheeks flushed, and she denied it outright. "It's just a novel. In fiction, the more different two people are, the more easily they’re drawn to each other. Risking everything for the other person—that’s what appeals to me most about this book.”
He tilted his chin, gesturing to her. “Come over here. Sit next to me. Let’s read it together.”
The single seat on this private jet was spacious, but there was only one.
If they were to read together, wouldn't she have to squeeze into the same seat as Donovan?
Iris instinctively turned her head to glance in Harrison’s direction.
At some point, he had lowered the window shade and was now lying with his eyes closed, seemingly fast asleep.
Donovan’s expression changed instantly.
Just to read a book with her, this woman is acting like it’s an affair—and she’s afraid of being seen?
"Iris," he said, his voice deepening slightly. "Come over. Why are you looking at Harrison?”
At those words, Harrison’s brow twitched imperceptibly. He discreetly turned his face further toward the porthole, afraid the boss’ anger might spread to him for no reason.
Iris sensed the tension in the air and averted her gaze.
She didn’t dare look at Donovan. Keeping her head down, she whispered, "If you want to read it, you can have it first. I won't read it anymore."
Donovan’s expression grew even darker.
Under these circumstances, one could tell that he didn't want to read the book.
When will this stupid cat ever get it through her head?
"I'll say this one last time," his voice turned cold. "Come here."
Three times...
Harrison swallowed instinctively.
For Donovan, saying the same thing once was a normal command, but saying it twice was an impatient warning.
Anyone who made him repeat the same thing a third time usually didn’t exist anymore.
Iris was an exception.
But now, Donovan’s tone was clearly laced with suppressed anger.
If Iris didn’t get up, Harrison couldn't imagine the trouble Donovan would put her through next.
It might even drag him into it.