Chapter 3
498words
Hated her cutting manner, as if the world owed her everything.
And hated how she could push you away with class and money one moment, then kiss you desperately the next, as if you were her only salvation.
Her kiss carried a cold resolution, with a faint taste of blood. Her body trembled slightly.
He barely pried her arms from his neck before her body pressed against him again, her bathrobe loosening to reveal patches of ivory skin.
He pinned her against the cold wall, easily gripping both slender wrists in one hand and raising them above her head.
The sudden restraint made her look up in displeasure, misty eyes meeting his. Recognition brought confusion, quickly replaced by something more intense—a stubborn madness.
"Where is your car?" Caleb repeated, his voice hoarse with restraint.
"It broke down," she panted, twisting against him. "I'm broken too, Caleb. Can you... fix me?"
How could any woman be like this?
He should have pushed her away and left immediately. But seeing the unmistakable fear in her eyes, his feet refused to move. Something was very wrong with her.
Lydia, cunning enchantress, noticed his hesitation. A sweet lychee fragrance mixed with post-shower dampness invaded his senses.
"Someone drugged me at the dinner," she whispered, her voice carrying aggrieved accusation. "But I dragged down the person who tried to harm me. If people don't wrong me, I won't wrong them."
"See? I'm not that bad, right?"
Caleb looked down at her arm around his waist. The stark contrast between her fair skin and his tan darkened his gaze.
When she defended herself, she resembled a child asking for candy while fearing rejection.
Caleb was twenty-one, his life revolving around classes, work, and the gym. A blue-collar Midwesterner who'd reached New York on a sports scholarship. Forget kissing—he'd barely held a girl's hand.
In his fantasy, his first time would come after a sweet girl shyly agreed to be his girlfriend. Going further would happen only after rings and vows.
But today, all his principles and defenses crumbled before this woman named Lydia.
"I know you don't like me," her voice softened, becoming enchanting. "You think I'm bad, beyond redemption."
She moved closer, her warm breath brushing his ear.
"Mr. Saint, doesn't a bad girl deserve to be taught a lesson?"
Outside, rain poured down. The city seemed isolated, the suite a lonely island adrift at sea, containing all sins and desires.
"I don't have..." he wanted to say "a condom," but the words burned on his tongue, impossible to voice.
Her long hair spread across the bed like seaweed, reminiscent of sirens luring sailors to their doom.
"It's okay."
"If it's you..."
The thread of reason in Caleb's mind snapped with an audible buzz.
Outside, the wind howled fiercely.
This wasn't bewitchment; this was divine punishment.
With a hoarse voice, he gripped her chaos-creating body, turned her over, and pressed her into the soft mattress.
"Then don't move."
