The bedroom was a cathedral of decadence, a dimly lit sanctuary in Chan’s sprawling mansion where every detail screamed money—silk sheets that shimmered like liquid silver, a four-poster bed so massive it could’ve doubled as a small yacht, and the faint, intoxicating whiff of expensive cologne that clung to the air like a lover’s whisper. Lila lay sprawled in the center of it all, her petite frame nearly swallowed by the plush mattress, her heart hammering so hard she swore it might crack a rib. At 160cm, she was a delicate firecracker, all sharp edges and untamed energy, but right now, she felt like a mouse caught in a lion’s den. Her skirt and sweater lay in a haphazard pile on the polished hardwood floor, leaving her in nothing but a lacy black bra, matching panties, and—embarrassingly—her mismatched ankle socks still clinging to her tiny feet.
Above her loomed Chan, a 179cm tower of pure, unadulterated power. His chiseled frame cast a shadow over her trembling form, every muscle defined as if carved from marble, his presence commanding the room without even trying. He was shirtless, his tailored trousers hanging low on his hips, and the smirk on his face was equal parts infuriating and devastating. Lila’s nerves were a live wire, every sensation amplified to an unbearable degree—her skin prickling at the faintest brush of the sheets, her breath hitching as Chan’s dark eyes raked over her like she was a prize he’d just won.
“Relax, tiny tornado,” Chan drawled, his voice a low, velvety rumble as he braced one arm on the bed beside her, his bicep flexing with casual arrogance. “You’re shaking like a leaf in a storm. I haven’t even touched you yet.”
Lila shot him a glare, though the effect was somewhat diminished by the way her cheeks flushed a violent shade of crimson. “Oh, please, Mr. Moneybags,” she snapped, her voice sharp enough to cut glass. “Spare me the weather metaphors. I’m not shaking because of you—I’m just wondering if this bed is insured. I mean, who needs a mattress this big? Compensating much?”
Chan’s smirk widened, his eyes glinting with amusement as he leaned closer, his breath warm against her ear. “Keep talking, sweetheart. I like it when you bite. And for the record, this bed isn’t the only thing that’s big around here.”
Lila rolled her eyes, though her heart did a traitorously excited flip. “Wow, original. Did you come up with that line while polishing your gold-plated ego? I’m swooning.”
He chuckled, a deep, throaty sound that sent a shiver down her spine despite her best efforts to remain unaffected. “You’re a mouthy little thing, aren’t you? I thought you’d be too busy panicking to throw jabs. First time, right?”
Her eyes narrowed, and she propped herself up on her elbows, refusing to let him have the upper hand. “Don’t flatter yourself, Chan. I’m not panicking. I’m just… strategically assessing the situation. And if you think I’m gonna let some overgrown trust fund baby intimidate me, you’ve got another thing coming.”
“Intimidate?” Chan raised a brow, his tone dripping with mock innocence as he traced a lazy finger along the edge of her bra strap, watching her flinch at the featherlight touch. “I’m not trying to intimidate you, Lila. I’m trying to impress you. Big difference.”
She snorted, though her voice wavered slightly as his finger dipped lower, brushing the sensitive skin just above her collarbone. “Impress me? With what, your ability to buy half of Manhattan? Newsflash, I’m not a real estate agent. And slow down, Casanova—I’m not a racecar you can rev up in two seconds.”
Chan’s hand paused, his gaze softening for a split second as he studied her face, catching the flicker of genuine nerves beneath her bravado. “Hey,” he said, his voice dropping to a gentler register. “We don’t have to rush this. You good?”
Lila blinked, thrown off by the sudden shift. She wasn’t used to guys like Chan—men who looked like they could bench press a small car—showing any hint of concern. But she wasn’t about to let him see her falter. “I’m fine,” she said, though her voice came out a little breathier than intended. “Just… don’t go thinking you’re some kind of sex god who’s gonna blow my mind in one go. I’ve got high standards, you know.”
“Oh, I’m well aware,” he shot back, the smirk returning as he leaned down, his lips hovering just above hers. “But I’ve got a reputation to uphold, tiny tornado. And trust me, I don’t disappoint.”
Her breath hitched as his mouth brushed hers, a teasing, barely-there kiss that sent a jolt of electricity through her. She squirmed beneath him, her body betraying her with every hypersensitive reaction—the way her toes curled in her stupid socks, the way her fingers instinctively gripped the sheets. “God, you’re annoying,” she muttered against his lips, though there was no real venom in her tone. “Do you ever stop talking?”
“Not when I’ve got someone as fun to rile up as you,” he replied, pulling back just enough to flash her a wicked grin. His hand slid down her side, slow and deliberate, testing her limits as he watched her face for any sign of hesitation. “Tell me to stop if it’s too much.”
Lila’s eyes flashed with defiance, even as her body trembled under his touch. “Stop? Please. I’m not some fragile porcelain doll, Chan. I can handle a little storm, as you so poetically put it. Question is, can you keep up with me?”
His laugh was low and dangerous, his grip tightening ever so slightly on her hip. “Oh, sweetheart, you have no idea what you’re in for. I’m about to take you on a ride you’ll never forget.”
Her bravado faltered for a split second, a nervous squeak escaping her lips as his words sank in. She wasn’t sure if she was ready for whatever “ride” he had in mind, but as his dark eyes locked onto hers, filled with a promise of both challenge and care, she felt the world tilt beneath her. Whatever came next, she knew one thing for certain: she wasn’t backing down.
Not yet.
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