Chapter 78 Your Body Speaks Truer Words than Your Lips
The room was too confining, and Finnegan’s intense gaze was fixed on her. He was waiting for her response.
Ophelia sat on the edge of the bed. The place was small, and since Finnegan had taken the couch, she had nowhere else to sit. She dared not meet Finnegan's eyes. The atmosphere in the room was odd, and her heart was in turmoil.
Finnegan’s intentions were crystal clear—he wanted her.
His declaration was suggestive and roguish, yet not off-putting. Who could resist such a confession from a billionaire president?
"I can't," Ophelia whispered to herself, taking a deep breath to steady her resolve. "Mr. Abbott, we come from different worlds. If there's no future in it, there's no point in starting something. You can afford to play around, I can't. I just want to live an ordinary life."
To Ophelia, Finnegan was just playing the field behind the guise of a girlfriend.
And even if she were to remain unwed for the rest of her life, she couldn't bring herself to be with a man who'd dated Seraphina. It crossed a moral line.
"How do you know there's no chance if you've never tried?" Finnegan stood up, leaned in close to Ophelia, his gaze burning into her.
Ophelia clenched her fists. "Mr. Abbott, we're not children. I'm well aware that there are plenty of women who match your social status. Why would you pick me?"
"Why?" Finnegan looked at her with a complicated gaze. "I want to find out the answer myself, and that's why I'm here."
Why he would choose Ophelia was a mystery even to Finnegan.
As she'd said, he was surrounded by beauties, society's finest dames ready for the taking. Yet, none sparked his interest—none but Ophelia, who gave him a zeal for life, a compulsion to possess her.
"Finnegan..."
"Try with me, Ophelia." His voice was rich and seductive.
Before she could utter a word, his soft lips pressed against hers. His kiss sealed her reply.
This kiss was domineering. As Finnegan moved in, Ophelia stumbled backward, falling onto the bed.
His kiss deepened, and Ophelia felt his fervor. If she didn't stop him, he would surely advance to the next level.
Heat coursed through Ophelia's body. Her cheeks were flushed, her heart was racing. His masculine scent enveloped her, her mind went blank, leaving only the whisper of reason urging her to stop. Yet, her body betrayed a different truth.
Her lips were addictive as poppies.
A tightness gripped Finnegan's lower belly, hormones surging. He hadn't felt such an intense desire for a woman since that night.
Finnegan's hand slipped under Ophelia's clothes, releasing her bra...
Suddenly, a loud crack – the bed frame splintered, collapsing beneath them. He crashed onto her, causing her to bite her tongue sharply. Pain shot through her.
Her backside hurt too.
It was the sting of pain that brought Ophelia to her senses.
Regaining her senses, Ophelia could hardly believe she had almost tumbled into bed with Finnegan again. "Are you okay?" Finnegan's voice was laced with concern as he gingerly lifted himself off her and helped her stand.
Together they stared at the broken bed slat in silence, the sexually charged atmosphere not dissipating one bit. In fact, it was further amplified by the shouts from the downstairs neighbor, making things even more awkward.
"Keep it down, will ya? Young folks today have too much energy," hollered the neighbor from their balcony. The ruckus was so loud that the paper-thin walls left nothing to the imagination.
Feeling her cheeks burn even hotter, Ophelia wanted to sink through the floor. Meanwhile, Finnegan, cool as a cucumber, eyed the broken slat and said, "We'll have to get a sturdier bed and maybe soundproof the place better. Wouldn't want to disturb the neighbors, right?"
She gaped at him in disbelief. What did he mean by 'we'?
Was Finnegan misunderstanding something? Maybe she couldn't really blame him—his allure was hard to resist, and she had nearly lost control herself. It was a lucky break that the bed gave out when it did.
Ophelia composed herself and said, "Mr. Abbott, I think you're under the wrong impression. What just happened was—"
He cut her off with a breezy tone. "Your body speaks truer words than your lips."
Before she could retort, Finnegan squatted down by the broken slat and rolled up his sleeves, as if preparing to fix the bed then and there.
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