Raeganâs eyes widened, but Mitchel didnât allow her a moment to react.
His ki*s was aggressive, a relentless invasion that left her breathless.
This ki*s wasnât like the ones before.
It felt Like a conquest.
He wanted all of her.
Raegan felt as though she might be ki*sed to death.
She couldnât breathe properly.
Her eyes reddened from the intensity of the ki*s, and her body turned as pliant as water.
Weakness overcame her, inviting more of his ki*ses.
Amidst the chaotic whirlwind in her mind and her labored breathing, she managed to ask, âAre you serious?â
Without a word, he scooped her up and carried her into the room, his expression dark and brooding.
âYes.
Give it to me.
â
Before entering the room, Mitchel stopped and cast a cold glance at the roses on the tea table.
âDo you like those flowers?â
Raegan recalled that Mitchel had never sent flowers to anyone.
Not even once.
Unsure of what to say, Raegan murmured, âIt depends.
â
As soon as she said those words, she wished she could take them back.
Just as she had expected, Mitchelâs expression darkened.
Raegan had not intended to annoy him, but she did so mindlessly.
In college, a young man followed her wherever she went and secretly slipped red roses into her books or school bag.
For a while, the roses unnerved her and stirred unpleasant memories.
That was the reason why she said that.
She did not mean she Liked the flowers because they were from Henley, but Mitchel seemed to get the wrong idea.
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In the blink of an eye, Mitchelâs mood shifted.
Instead of entering the room, he placed Raegan on the tea table and pressed her on the roses.
The cold dew from the petals soaked through her back, making her tremble.
Raegan clutched at his shirt, trying her best not to crush the delicate roses under her weight, but it was futile.
Why here? There was plenty of space in the room.
âDonât do it here,â Raegan pleaded.
Tears brimmed in her eyes.
She was uncomfortable as her back was crushing the bouquet, but her discomfort only fueled Mitchelâs desire.