During the introduction day, he talked about his project. I found it interesting and approached him. Since then, we’ve been discussing his project a lot. He is a very intelligent man, but he is entirely focused on finding a cure for that particular cancer. I’ve put my own project on hold for now, investing my time in his work, because I have a feeling his project isn’t as random as mine. His dedication gives a strong impression that he has a personal reason behind it, and besides, I’m not finding any help for my own project.
“Hey, Iselyn. Won’t you be coming to the seminar?” he asks.
I walk near him. “I won’t be able to come today.”
He nods. He doesn’t like talking much.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I say, a little jolted as Matleon suddenly holds my waist.
I glare at him after Dexter leaves, removing his hand from my body. His non-consensual touches are not good formy heart. It would burst from beating so loudly if this keeps happening.
I walk toward my room and open the door with my keys.
“Stay out here,” I say, throwing the door at his face, but he catches it. I push, but it’s useless. He pushes me inside easily and enters, then closes the door behind him.
All the self-defense I’ve learned is of no use in front of him. I tell myself not to feel disappointed about it, this man has been through the best military training. Apart from Zo, no one could defeat him in any kind of combat.
I hate how much I know about him. Over the years, I’ve tried my best to forget every piece of information related to him, but my brain refuses to let go. Every word spoken about him over the last eight years by my father, uncle, or brother is permanently stored in my memory.
In the first four years, whenever anyone said anything related to him, I listened with full attention and a grin on my face. In the later four years, it was the opposite, I tried not to listen, frowning every time his name came up. But even then,he always had my attention.
“This is my private space,” I tell him, planting my hands on my hips.
He removes his sunglasses and sits on my bed. “Start packing.” He smiles when I keep glaring. “Or do you want to admire me in yourprivate spacefor some time? I have no problem with that either.”
He leans back, placing his hands behind him. “I can understand, it’s not a sight you get to see every day.”
I grit my teeth. My violence gets the better of me as I lunge at him, grabbing his neck with both hands.
I squeeze hard. “You shouldn’t have taken this much advantage of the situation,” I grit out. I’m not going to regret it, even if I kill him today.
He starts laughing.
What the fuck is wrong with this man?
And in the next moment, he falls back onto my bed, pulling me on top of him by my waist. I release his neck in the sudden movement.
I press on either side of his face, trying to push myself up, but he slides his other hand to my neck and pulls me down further. Despite fighting with all my strength, I’m still being dragged closer. He stops only when our faces are so close that our breaths mingle, his lips hovering so near they feel like they’re touching mine, even though they aren’t.
My neck strains as I fight to keep myself up against his relentless pressure. He isn’t forcing me down completely; he’s making sure I have to keep fighting to stay up. If my muscles give out even a little, my lips will touch his.
Damn this bastard.
My whole body is sweating. I’m sure it’s because of the physical struggle, and not becausehe’s this close.
“I haven’t even started taking advantage of the situation, Angel,” he murmurs, his words brushing directly against my mouth. I feel every syllable on my lips.
I turn my face away, silently thanking God when he lets me. My neck finally gives out, going numb as my face falls against his neck. I’m breathing hard, like I’ve just finished twenty push-ups in one go.
The sound of his low hum snaps my focus away from my breathlessness.
Is he enjoying this?
I try to push myself up again, but he doesn’t let me move.
“Let me hold you for a few more minutes,” he whispers near my ear.
The sound of his voice slides through me, sending a shiver down my spine. Suddenly, the reality of my position hits me—I’m on top of him. My whole body presses against his, and despite my efforts to ignore it, my brain starts registering every point of contact: the dig of his belt against my belly, my breasts pressing against his hard, wide chest, his large hands spanning my back, covering too much of me, it feels like he’s everywhere. My heavy breaths turn shallow.
