Quit Playing Games (English)

Lara quickly got to know him, not because his father described him so much that it was impossible for her not to recognize him, but because even though he stands behind the crowd he dominates the crowd who’s waiting for the newly arrived passengers at Manila City International Airport. He was over six feet tall, with a muscular body and blessed with a gentle face that resembled an angel who fell from heaven. At a glance you can immediately tell that he was the type of man who was envied by other men, and women were willing to fight for.As if on cue, he looked at her. He stared at her for a moment, long enough for the shiver to roll in her chest. Every part of her brain and sanity reminded her that this man is dangerous and will only bring her pain. He nodded, as if he knew the effect he had on her and parted with the people in front of him, walking towards her.She couldn't help but stare at him, the way he wore his pants exposed his narrow hips and long legs, t

Chris took the opportunity to leave the place, when she saw him leaving, she wanted to slap herself with frustration, despite her efforts she failed to prevent that. However, the faithful Ruben remained in the room, concerned and willing to help in any way. When Rocco finished eating and fell asleep comfortably, she went out to go to the room reserved for her.Aida, the servant, showed Lara the room reserved for her upstairs. Decorated in subtle shades of ivory and slate-blue, she remembered her own bedroom in the house, even though the furnishings here were far more than anything she could afford. Marble floors, a Savonnerie rug and fine antiques polished to a soft gleam exemplified wealth, good taste and comfort.There is also a lady’s writing desk between the double French doors to the balcony. There was a fainting couch, its brocade upholstery worn to satin softness, its once-vibrant colors faded by time. A glass-shaded lamp spilled mellow light, and a vase o

She was lying. The evidence was present in her confused look, in her racing pulse, very easily and unobtrusively detected when he took her wrist. And he intended to find out why, because despite his thoughts he would remain unaffected by whatever he discovered when he went to the airport, the sight of the old man, so brittle and somehow diminished, he seemed to be struck by a hammer in his heart. They only spent a little time together, for a long time nothing else was done but to argue and nothing was agreed upon. But Rocco was still his father, and Chris would be damned before he’d let someone take him to the cleaners.Oh, she was full of reasonable anger for saying that she was not a selfless angel of mercy as she portrays as she is. After all, he didn't expect it. But he also saw how she was able to bring herself closer to Rocco; how successful she was in taking its affection. His father was not the demonstrative type of man, and at least not as far as Chris remember

She probably weighed no more than fifty-four kilograms in his eighty-five, but what was lacking in size, was more than recoverable in spirit. He had no doubt that she was given knowledge of the anatomy of the man, beyond the ability to cause serious bodily injury. Which should hinder him. Instead the thought of repelling her left him so suddenly and painfully aroused that, for the first time, he questioned the wisdom of his plan of attack. She should have been at his mercy, not in any other way, but for now, she remained utterly indifferent to his charms. On the other hand, he is not with her. Aida just came back to serve chicken breast and ziti stuffed with spinach, a welcome diversion, allowing him to fight his bad submission hormones and redirect his energy to more productive channels. "Why did you allow my father to force you into allowing him to travel, when he clearly didn't fit on it?" he asked casually, once they were alone again. &l

Lara had been kissed before, many times, but always. with some part of her brain able to rate the experience objectively: too slobbery, too bland, too aggressive, too many teeth, too much heavy breathing, not enough tenderness. More often than not, kissing, she'd concluded, was a vastly overrated prelude to romance. Until Christian Imperial came on the scene, that was, and filled her with a single blow. Except "blow" was no more the right word to define his effect on her than "kiss" adequately described his action. What he did with his mouth transcended the ordinary and surpassed the divine. Cool and firm, it yet seared her with its heat. Though undemanding, it somehow stripped her of everything-her independence, her focus, her moral compass, even her sense of survival. Apart from one rash, distinctly forgettable experience, she'd chosen to remain celibate because sex for its own sake held no appeal, and she'd never come close to being in lo