"Don't leave me hanging like this… it's torture…"
His lips—cool and gentle—brushed against the side of her neck.
Jessica jolted, her hands pressing hard against his chest, trying to push him away.
But to Timothy, every bit of her resistance only read as coy reluctance.
He caught her wrists, pinning both arms above her head.
Getting her to surrender wasn't difficult for him. He always had his ways.
Timothy's expression was soft, but beneath that gentleness ran a current of unyielding dominance.
Jessica saw the storm brewing in his eyes.
She shook her head desperately. This time, after they'd come back to the room, he'd locked every door behind them.
If he truly wanted something from her, there would be no escape.
She was so anxious, tears pricked at her eyes.
Her lashes were damp, her cheeks flushed pink, heartbreakingly lovely and fragile.
Timothy had been restraining himself for a long time, but he wasn't the type to take pleasure in overpowering a woman. On the contrary, he valued the experience—he would give her all the tenderness she needed to ease her fear.
Just then, the sound of a keycard in the lock. Sheila's hand on the handle—only to find the door bolted from inside.
She frowned, immediately hitting the doorbell.
Ding-dong—ding-dong—ding-dong—
The insistent ringing forced Timothy to let go of Jessica.
He frowned, his strikingly handsome face cold and unreadable as he straightened his shirt and calmly walked out.
Jessica sat up slowly, tugging at her clothes where Timothy had rumpled them. He had never once cared what she wanted.
Timothy opened the door.
It was Sheila.
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