In His Kiss Bridgerton Mga Nobela at Kwento

My hands found their way clenching his tux as I tried to keep my knees up and steady. Shit, he kisses like a hungry beast deprived of water his entire life. My head went delirious as he finally pulled back and the only thing I heard was a series of applause. Shit, I actually married Konstantin Morozov.

He saw the way my bright, glowing face dimmed. He saw the way I shrank beneath Annaida’s smirk. He noticed Alex’s hand on my shoulder. And something shifted in him. He took a step back from Annaida, nodded politely to the chief guest — a legendary boxer who’d come to present the official title belt — and thanked him quickly. Then he turned. Walked straight toward me. And kissed me. Right there, in front of everyone. His kiss was firm. Warm. Claiming. Yet it felt like a subtle slap from Damon to Annaida for hurting me.

He gritted out, “and do me a favor by taking that necklace….” “shit, if I knew the wine was from you Jasmine, I wouldn't have let him reject it..” His friend cut in, with a dropping jaw, the moment he recognized me. “Chase bridgerton.” He added, tossing away his cigar in swag with his eyes fixated on me. He took my hand and placed a peck on it, in a charming manner.

His warm breath still lingers on my lips, and I can't help but notice the sweet, strawberry flavor of his kiss. I'm stunned, wondering if I've lost my mind or if he's gone crazy. Just moments ago, he was meticulous about germs, and now he's kissing me without warning? It doesn't add up! He wears a confident smile, his arm cocked on his hip as he gazes at me, daring me to deny the obvious. "Go ahead, say you didn't love every second of that kiss," he taunts. I remain silent, my eyes fixed on him, reminded of his notorious reputation as a womanizer. How could I have forgotten that Petal is a serial flirt, always chasing his next conquest?

Placing a hand under my chin, he lifted my face and gently kissed me. One hand moved up to cup the back of my neck, gently tugging me closer. I melted into his kiss, savoring the taste of him. He must have had a sip of whiskey to loosen himself before the party, because he tasted faintly of it. Although his kiss alone was intoxicating enough for me.

"Stunning? Gorgeous? Beautiful?" He didn't answer. Instead, his hand came up to cradle my jaw, his thumb stroking my cheek. He leaned in and pressed a kiss to my forehead, so tender and slow it made my knees feel weak. "You're the most breathtaking woman I've ever seen," he murmured against my skin. He was about to go further when his phone rang. "I need to take this," he said, kissing my forehead once more before heading out the door. After finishing up, I stepped out of my room and made my way downstairs.

The air shifts; everything else — the shouting vendors, the bustling crowd, the cold November air — disappears. Then, still watching me, he brings his thumb to his mouth and licks it clean. My breath catches. And then he’s leaning down, catching my mouth in a kiss that’s soft but far too certain, like he knows exactly what he’s doing to me. The taste of strawberry lingers between us, warm and dizzying. When he finally pulls back, his lips curve into that infuriating grin. “You’re right,” he murmurs, almost smug. “It is good.”

“Oh my God…….what the hell have I gotten myself into? Why did I kiss you?” “Let’s not pretend you didn’t enjoy it, Charlotte.” “Enjoyed it?” I scoffed. “Please, your lips taste like ground sandpaper mixed with sawdust.” I swear I saw his nose scrunch up. “That’s quite the mix.” “Exactly.” For a second, the silence hangs between us again. Until he speaks, “What are you doing here?” “What do you mean?” “I mean, here, in my company……you’re a student all the way in the DC. But you’re here in Vegas……why?”

His tongue seeks for entrance and the tiniest resistance that I have is now gone. He’s hot and powerful. The same British boy that will make you bend for them to devour you. His naughty hands began to ravish my breast even with the tiny clothes. “ Ah. Fuck, miss.” He growls before I can feel him lifting me up to his body and walking at a gentle pace. We’ve landed on the couch where some of his friends are laughing and enjoying their drinks. He pulls my body closer. “Don’t mind them,” he said with a British accent before he makes me sit on his lap and continues the kiss. The crowd that we are in cheers for the free live show and this brute grins, enjoying himself.