He let her bite, showing no intention of evading, a faint, indulgent smile lingering on his lips. He patiently waited for her to release her grip.
A bright red plum blossom adorned the snowy white shirt on his shoulder. Andrew casually glanced at it, his deep eyes devoid of any ripples, as if the person bitten wasn’t him.
“Done biting? Well then, it’s my turn,” he said and immediately enveloped her in his arms, passionately kissing her lips like a storm.
His kiss was domineering and reckless, making her lips numb, her breath becoming increasingly erratic, even feeling like she was on the brink of death.
Before she could suffocate, he finally released her lips, moving on to kiss her cheeks, chin, beautiful collarbone, and further down. Meanwhile, his restless hands ignited fires across her body.
It was evident that simple kisses and caresses no longer satisfied him; he wanted more from her.
Although Andrew usually had good self-control, being in the heat of the moment with raging hormones, once a floodgate was opened, it was impossible to contain.
While continuing to kiss her, he shifted positions, holding her in his arms. His deep blue eyes looked at her with a mesmerizing gaze.
Andrew’s handsome profile in the evening sunlight was particularly deep and three-dimensional, his charming blue eyes profound, intense, unblinking as they stared at her.
Just like a dangerous and fierce leopard eyeing its readily available prey.
Her clothes slightly loosened, hair disheveled, Isabella’s posture was both lazy and charming, her clear eyes innocently fixed on him.
Even doing nothing, she was a fatal temptation for the man at this moment.
There was a brief silence between them. She struggled to climb down from him using both her hands and feet, but the arm wrapped around her waist suddenly tightened, restraining her in his embrace once again.
“Andrew, what do you really want?” She stared at him with a face full of grievances, her voice low and soft, perhaps due to the recent kiss, sending shivers down one’s spine.
“Don’t you know? I want you.” His low, sexy voice sounded so matter-of-fact.
Isabella raised her fist, ready to resist, but he directly grabbed her wrist, effortlessly pressing her down.
This man in bed and outside of it were absolutely different.
He gave an impression of being composed, self-assured, reserved, even uninterested in worldly desires. However, once he touched the bed, he could instantly transform into a fierce, bloodthirsty beast, wild enough to be uncontrollable.
As she was tossed and turned on the couch in the living room, her mind hazily thought: with this kind of tossing around, she’d eventually be tossed to death by him.
From the living room’s couch to the large bed, then to the floor, the clear sky outside turned into the enveloping night, but Andrew showed no intention to stop.
Finally, unable to endure further, Isabella cried and begged continuously, and he reluctantly let her go.
She collapsed on one side of the large bed, facing away from him, wrapped herself in the sheets like a cocoon.
“Good girl, go wash up and sleep,” his palm rested on her shoulder, his voice low and gentle.
“Don’t want to wash, don’t want to move,” she murmured with closed eyes, tear droplets adorning her thick, long eyelashes.
“I’ll carry you to the bathroom. It’ll be more comfortable if you wash up before sleeping,” he reached out to hold her, but she panicked and avoided his touch.
Based on past experiences, entering the bathroom would surely mean being thoroughly taken care of by him.
His narrow eyes narrowed further, seemingly guessing her thoughts, the smile at the corner of his lips growing deeper.
“Be a good girl, go take a shower. I won’t touch you tonight. Too much in bed tires my body.”
She widened her beautiful eyes, glaring hard at him. Her fair skin flushed a shade of red, whether from anger or embarrassment, she couldn’t tell.
“Andrew, do you have any shame!”
“Between a woman and one’s dignity, as long as a man is physically and mentally healthy, he usually chooses the former,” Andrew replied. He wrapped his arm around her slender waist and carried her straight into the bathroom.
She was tossed into the full bathtub, annoyed, deliberately splashing the water from the tub onto him. His deep blue shirt got wet, but his expression remained unchanged, showing neither annoyance nor agitation, maintaining an unruffled demeanor.
“Will you wash by yourself, or shall I assist?” he stood by the bathtub, gazing at her with a mischievous look in his eyes, their color showing a hint of depth.
Though he promised not to touch her, such matters were not always under rational control. His animalistic desires expanded; he wanted to mate with her.
“Andrew, get out!” Isabella curled up in the bathtub, infuriated, splashing him with more water.
Andrew elegantly straightened his damp shirt. “Let me know when you’re done washing,” he said, then turned and walked out, gently closing the bathroom door behind him.
She quickly finished washing, standing in front of the mirror to dry her hair. Her fair neck was covered in various shades of bruises, indicating how intense the recent altercation had been.
In her mind, Isabella cursed Andrew once again.