CHAPTER 3

“W-What are you doing?” I breathed.

My throat went dry the moment his hand touched my face. I can feel the warmth of his touch and the heat that I crave coming from his presence.

I tried to hold it together. “S-stop,” I whispered, but he didn’t move away.

I wasn’t trapped by his body pressing me down. I was trapped by the space between us—the heavy tension pulling us closer, inch by inch, like even the air refused to let me breathe.

Why is this feeling? It’s just a simple touch. But the effect it had on me is crazy.

I wanted to disappear right now because I know I look like a red tomato at this moment.

“I thought you knew what you were doing,” he muttered. His voice slowed, almost teasing.

What was his problem?

“G-get off me,” I said. The words came out weak and unsure, like my mouth and my mind weren’t on the same side.

My hands rested against his chest, fingers gripping his shirt. I don't know if I should push him or just follow my desire to hold on. I hated that I didn’t know which one I wanted to do.

“You’re saying let go,” he said quietly, his grip firm but unmoving, “But you look like you’re still holding on. Like you don’t even realize it.”

My breath caught. Not because of him but because I didn’t like how close his words were to the truth.

His gaze met mine, steady and unreadable. I hated that for a second, I almost gave in to those confident eyes. Almost. But no. Last night was a mistake. A stupid one.

The tension between us felt sharp, like it was running through my body and stealing my voice. I could barely think, let alone speak.

I pulled back, swallowing hard. “S-Sir… let’s just continue with our first lesson.”

“You left me in my bed last night, Reina,” he said. The disappointment in his voice was impossible to miss.

“You think that was funny? Walking away like it meant nothing?” His tone hardened. “Now you’re convincing yourself I was the one who left first.”

“Convincing?” I shot back, forcing my voice to stay firm. “You’re the one twisting it, Mr. Margaux. You left me in that room.”

“To be clear,” he said firmly, shutting his eyes dramatically. “I made breakfast…not run away. If you had walked around my condo, you would’ve fucking seen me in the kitchen, barely clothes on, cooking for a stranger who climbed into my bed completely drunk last night, and asked me for the fucking heaven, which I do not know what she clearly meant by that.”

His jaw tightened. “And to be even clearer, it was never my plan to leave you. I am not that kind of man, Reina.”

He looked at me sharply with those eyes I couldn’t clearly read. His eyes were beautiful. Too beautiful that it can hypnotised anyone who stares at it.

“That night…” My voice cracked. “It was a mistake.”

Hearing his side of the story, I barely recognized myself in it. It sounded reckless and careless, like it's not me at all. The disappointment hit harder than I expected. Not in him but in myself. And the thought of my parents finding out made my chest tighten even more.

I had messed up.

“A mistake?” He repeated it, stepping closer. His voice softened, but the words cut deeper. “Then why does your silence say otherwise? Why is it so hard for you to let go now?”

I don't know how to answer it.

But I snapped back. “Don’t assume you’re special. That was just one night, yet you’re acting like you already matter to me. Wake up.” I forced each word out. I didn’t mean to hurt him on purpose.

“And maybe… maybe I did want warmth,” I added quietly, “But I’m not like you. I won't go chasing after it.”

His expression shifted. He tried to hide it but I saw it.  “I’m not chasing anything or anyone,” he said, “My whole system just act without thinking when it comes to you.”

He took a deep breath and loosened his grip.

"Clean up," he said, finally, forcing himself with a smile. "Start with the books." 

What does he mean by that? And why does he sounds like blaming me for what happened when he’s really the one at fault for standing out and looking so good on the crowd so I chose him.

I walked to pick up the books, papers, and anything to make contact. To pretend that I'm busy and doing something to release the tension I am feeling right now.

Moments had passed, but there was still silence between us. Not until a knock ended the silence that was deafening between us.

"Reina, honey?" Mom's voice drifted through the door.

I opened it, pasting on a smile as she stood there, holding a tray of food and a glass of juice.

"Thanks, Mom," I replied, taking it.

"You have to be ready next month for your grand ball," she said, like it's that simple.

"In a week?!" My voice cracked. "Wow. Sure. Let me just magically summon a whole royal court to get me ready."

"Come on, you can do that. I believe in you."

Oh, thanks, mom. I believe you're also planning to make me work 'till death.

"But, Mom—"

"We’re going to the company. I asked him not to leave you until we’re back," she added, smiling.

"Yes, Mom." I plastered on my best obedient-daughter smile and kept it there until the door clicked shut. The second it did, the smile dropped faster than my will to live.

And then it hit me.

They're gone, and it's just the two of us now.

I turn around and my gaze falls on him. He was sleeping on the couch, eyes shut.

I walked through him and put the food down on the table near him and sat next to him, observing. I admired the sharp curve of his jaw. 

Maybe I'm also craving warmth but just afraid to feed my hunger. But...what if?

How did I get here? Between going against my family's wishes and throwing myself into the arms of a man I didn't know.

He’s just a stranger. Nothing more. And I know better than to get attached to any man. They always end up controlling—just like my dad.

If I don’t come up with a way to escape the wedding, I won’t have a choice. I’ll be forced to marry the Luxmooré heir. A loser, ugly, fat, and shameless guy. And the worst part? I haven’t even met him yet.

The thought alone made my stomach twist.

"He looks even better up close," I whispered, and a silly smile was drawn to my face.

I touched him, my hand skimming the side of his face. He did not move because obviously, he's sleeping and unaware. 

The moment I looked at his lips, I felt like it's waiting for mine to press against them. It's tempting me to hold them and caressed his face while deeply pressing his lips against mine.

I leaned back and turned around to control myself for being impulsive, but he pulled me back.

“Ah—”

"You know what you're doing, right?" His tone was seductive. His eyes flashed to my lips like he wanted to devour them.

"I-I didn't mean to touch your face or disturb you," I whispered in a husky voice.

"Taking advantage while your Mom and Dad are out?" he said in a taunting voice.

He smacked my lips and held back immediately, then whispered, "I thought you were better than this... if you're too determined to prove that you didn't mean to disturb my sleep, then hold back," he said, seducing me.

I smiled, tracing my fingers along his jaw, down to his lips. "You don't know, do you? How hard it's like when a Sollivierre becomes obsessed with something… or someone? You wouldn't like it, professor," I said, taunting.

I suddenly changed into someone. I can no longer control this other personality of mine. He has to step back.

His brows raised in amusement and a smirk escaped his lips. "Then I'm glad to be Reina Eliara Sollivierre's obsession."

"You don't deserve to be one," I said and pulled away again. But he tightened his grip.

"Don't challenge me." His voice was a bit taunting. His hands traveled on my jaw and examined it with his sharp look.

"I challenge you." I raised my brow and smirked.

His mouth slammed into mine possessively. The kiss was rough with tension. His fingers drifted along the curve of my spine, pressing me to him. I could sense all of him.

He pulled the strap of my nightgown down, his lips tracing the skin. My hands were not still either; they traced his chest, each muscle. When I traveled lower, running my hand into his and that's when his smirk reappeared.

"You want that, huh?" he whispered.

"Guess," I said in a seducing tone.

His grin was evil as he swept me off my feet. I encircled my arms around his neck as he took me to my bedroom. The door shut behind us.

Clothing slipped to the floor as we stood undressed.

He pinned me back upon the bed, looming over me with eyes so intense they seemed to consume me whole.

"May I?" he whispered, his voice laced with hunger.

I nodded, my breath caught.

He did it slowly, kissing down my body, lips unhurried and worshipful, as though he needed to commit every response. When his mouth hit my thigh, a gasp escaped me. His fingers pushed me apart, and I couldn't silence the moan that exploded from me when his tongue delved in, slow at first, teasing, tasting, until the pressure was almost too much.

"Please. Don't make me beg," I breathed, my fingers grasping the sheets.

"Oh, Reina," he whispered against my flesh.

He didn't give me time to respond. His lips took over, merciless, devouring my womanhood. My moans echoed off the walls, shameless. He didn't let up until I was shaking beneath him, hardly able to form sentences.

"F-F*ck!" I exclaimed as I could feel my desires rolling over me.

He drew back, his lips wet, his eyes looking at me with pride. "You taste good as always," he grunted.

And then he entered me without a warning. Fuck this guy.

The stretch, the fullness... It was suffocating. We danced to the beat of our bodies together, desperate and wild, as if trying to catch up on every second lost in denial. 

"Harder… harder," I pleaded, my fingers scraping down his back.

"F*ck, Reina… why are you so fucking obsessed with me?" he grunted, he was claiming every part of me.

"You want to be my obsession, remember? " I panted, clinging to sanity by a thread. "Now, I'm challenging you."

"Are you sure?" he growled.

I responded by slamming my mouth on top of his, kissing him so hard it felt like we might burn alive right then.

He consumed me, his fingers knotted in my hair like I was something he couldn't release. He kissed me as if starving, his mouth kissing down to the crook of my neck, to my collarbone, sampling every inch of me with slow, agonizing devotion.

All I could manage to do was moan his name.

But I wasn't going to let him control everything.

I pressed him back against the bed, straddling him, observing his eyes grow darker as I wrapped my hand around his length. I stroked him slowly, deliberately, observing him unwind under my fingers.

"F*ck, Reina," he spat, his head going back, lips open as he moaned my name.