I figured he would reassure me, like in romance novels where the male protagonist would say, “Don’t worry. I won’t touch you until you’re ready.”
However, reality was far from that. Nathaniel took off his gold–rimmed glasses and walked over to me.
Pulling me into his arms, he murmured, his voice low and smooth, “Then, let’s ease the tension. You can start by having a test run.”
After that, he turned off the lights, his hands firm on my waist as he guided me to straddle his lap. His warm breath brushed against my skin, sending a shiver down my spine.
With a coaxing tone, he whispered, “Rowena, kiss me.”
It was like I was under a spell, and I leaned in and kissed him. He tasted unbelievably sweet and soft.
I heard Nathaniel did not smoke or drink, kept a clean diet, and followed a disciplined routine. I could not help but feel unworthy of kissing him, overwhelmed by his polished refined self.
Yet, when things escalated, I realized Nathaniel was not what he seemed. He might have looked composed and untouchable, but when passion took over, he was anything but restrained.
He was rough, intense, and relentless, like a beast that had completely lost control. I begged him to stop multiple times, but he did not.
