Fatal Desire

Chapter 132 I'm used to being served by him

Zhao Yansen's words were like an anesthetic, injected into Song Xi's cochlea from his throat, spreading throughout her body and numbing every nerve in her body.

She cried uncontrollably, her fingers clutching his shirt, creating wrinkle after wrinkle.

Having nearly witnessed his death, she thought she could suppress her fear. But now she finds that, even after many years, terror still haunts her.

As Song Xi trembled, she finally released her fear and suddenly realized something.

It turned out she didn't hate him at all; she just missed him terribly.

Song Xi cried so hard she couldn't catch her breath, and Zhao Yansen was worried she would cry herself to death.

He sighed, his strong arms encircling her slender waist, and carried her straight to the sofa.

Song Xi sat on Zhao Yansen's strong lap, her arms wrapped around his neck. He pulled her away slightly and used a soft handkerchief to wipe away her tears.

The more you wipe, the more there seems to be, as if it will never dry.

Zhao Yansen tossed the handkerchief aside, cupped Song Xi's face in his large hands, and examined her closely.

Her eyelashes were wet, her eyes were covered with a layer of mist, and tears kept overflowing, like clear and bright springs.

His handsome face drew closer inch by inch, but stopped just before it touched her lips.

Then, Song Xi stopped crying. She blinked, and tears fell from her long eyelashes, dripping onto Zhao Yansen's high nose, seeping through his skin and into his body, silently merging with him.

Zhao Yansen lifted his eyelids slightly, his deep, dark eyes staring straight into her: "Are you done crying? I'll kiss you after you're done crying."

The man's full Adam's apple bobbed, and his deep, hot breath sprayed onto Song Xi's cheek.

Her long, curled eyelashes, like butterfly wings, trembled. She parted her lips slightly, about to answer, when Zhao Yansen suddenly kissed her.

Their lips met, and he covered her soft lips with gentle pecking and nibbling, tenderly drawing her into a kiss.

Smelling the familiar and pleasant cool sandalwood scent, as if drawn by some irresistible force, Song Xi closed her eyes, all her senses being invaded by Zhao Yansen.

His kisses grew deeper and more intense.

Song Xi unconsciously made suggestive sounds, making Song Xi's ears burn and her heart race.

The sound of kissing was amplified infinitely in the deserted night, sounding particularly ambiguous and romantic.

There were no other sounds in the room, and even the light seemed to have dimmed. Song Xi was dizzy from the kisses, and her body was getting hotter and hotter, as if she was about to turn into a puddle of mud.

In her confusion and infatuation, she tried to open her eyes to look at Zhao Yansen, but unexpectedly bumped into his deep, soul-consuming eyes.

Song Xi's mind suddenly went blank, and she instinctively leaned back, but the man held her tightly by the back of her head, not giving her a chance to escape.

He forcefully bit her lips, kissing her more and more fiercely, as if he wanted to devour her whole.

Their love was intertwined and tender, their breaths mingling, her breathing erratic, her fingers gripping his expensive shirt tightly against his chest.

Their passionate kisses lingered, as if a raging storm was sweeping across the world, engulfing them.

Song Xi felt like she was suffocating. Her chest heaved, and the tear stains on her cheeks were gradually evaporated by the heat.

Before Song Xi stopped breathing, Zhao Yansen released her, giving her time to catch her breath. He kissed her eyes, cheeks, nose, and chin, and finally pressed his thin lips against hers, slowly caressing and kissing her.

"Are you hungry?" he asked in a hoarse voice.

Song Xi shook her head, breathing in the fresh air rapidly while savoring his kiss.

She leaned limply against Zhao Yansen's shoulder, calmed her breathing for a moment, and murmured, "Thirsty."

Zhao Yansen picked her up in one go, and Song Xi immediately wrapped her legs around his lean waist. She hugged his neck and said, "You can put me on the sofa and then pour me some water."

Zhao Yansen cupped her buttocks with his large hand, glanced at her, and said, "If you put me on the sofa and run away, where am I supposed to find me?"

“I won’t run away,” Song Xi retorted.

Zhao Yansen smiled lazily and brought up old grievances: "Who was it that ran away from me while I was taking a shower at the hotel?" Song Xi denied it to the death: "It wasn't me."

"If it's not you, then who is it?"

“Song Bei”.

Zhao Yansen chuckled indulgently, supporting her legs and hips steadily with one hand while pouring a glass of warm water with the other. His slender, bony fingers held the glass and fed her the water.

Song Xi was used to being waited on by Zhao Yansen and didn't see anything wrong with this behavior. She opened her mouth and drank water directly from his hand.

"Hmm...that's enough."

Zhao Yansen put down his water glass and placed the back of his hand on her forehead and cheek to check her temperature.

Her face turned pale from crying, but then he kissed her until it was flushed. Song Xi was in poor health, fluctuating between hot and cold, and he was worried she would fall ill.

Song Xi licked her moist lower lip, looking at Zhao Yansen's serious and deep expression, and couldn't help but smile, her eyebrows curving like the bright moon.

This was the first time she had smiled at him in a long time. Zhao Yansen secretly breathed a sigh of relief and asked, "Are you happy to see me?"

"Ok!"

Song Xi casually wrapped her arms around his neck, laughing heartily, "Why did you come here? Didn't Secretary Qiu say there was a meeting?"

Zhao Yansen was no less shrewd or capable than Zhao Zongting, and the elders would sometimes invite him to join meetings, especially secret meetings for important decisions.

“You can look at the meeting minutes.” Zhao Yansen raised his hand and tucked her fallen hair behind her ear.

Someone as calm and rational as him can always handle any unexpected situation with ease.

Song Xi understood, and then asked, "Then why didn't you wait for me to return to China?"

She can talk to her about it when she returns to China.

"We can't wait." Zhao Yansen gently wiped her damp cheek with his fingertips, his voice warm and deep. "Every second we wait increases the risk."

He clearly couldn't bear to see her get hurt, but in the end, he was the one who hurt her the most.

Fu Guanyue is right.

Song Xi was raised by him; no one but him could hurt her.

He only just realized this now.

Zhao Yansen's heart felt like a crumpled piece of Xuan paper, and the silent pain stretched from his chest to his limbs.

Song Xi wrapped her arms tightly around his neck, rested her chin on his broad shoulders, and felt her soul float up, suspended on a lush, green branch, transforming into a half-ripe fruit, about to be ripened by the humid air.

The knot in her heart that had been there for years couldn't be completely melted away overnight. She still resented him, but she loved him even more.

After a moment of intimacy, Song Xi contentedly took her pajamas and went into the bathroom to wash up.

An hour later, she came out of the bathroom.

Zhao Yansen stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling window, one hand in his pocket, overlooking the dazzling night view of New York.

Hearing the sound, he turned to look at her.

Song Xi walked barefoot on the carpet, wearing a silk nightgown with a delicate rouge-colored strap loosely tied across her pale back.

Song Xi walked over to Zhao Yansen, put her arms around his neck, and asked him to lower his head slightly, complaining in her tone, "You're too tall."

Zhao Yansen raised the corner of his lips slightly, a smile spreading across his face. He picked her up with one hand, then put her down, letting her step on the back of his foot.

"Are you satisfied now, Princess?"

(End of this chapter)