Chapter 210 His Birthday Wish
Victoria Kensington's gaze lifted once more, only to be ensnared by his unyielding stare. Without warning, her feet were no longer touching the ground. He hoisted her up, her legs instinctively encircling his slender waist. Her heart pounded with such ferocity that she found it difficult to draw breath. Despite her efforts to push against his broad shoulders, he carried her effortlessly towards the lounge.
"Alexander Harrington, you can't do this," she protested, her voice laced with desperation. He merely smirked in response, continuing his journey to the lounge. Once there, he deposited her onto the bed, kneeling before her with one leg bent.
Victoria attempted to scoot backward, but Alexander leaned over her. His towering figure bent down, his hand reaching out to firmly grasp her calf. Her cheeks flushed with a mix of fear and trepidation as she stammered, "Alexander Harrington, I'm not your woman."
"Then whose are you?" he queried, pulling her closer with a gentle force. He leaned in, the unfamiliar scent of alcohol on his breath and his captivating eyes locked onto hers. "Even by law, you're my wife, Victoria Kensington. Denial is futile."
His eyes remained emotionless until they landed on her chest, his hand instantly rising, ready to tear open her blouse. "Stop," she commanded, catching his hand mid-air. "Let go," he demanded. "Don't, please," she pleaded, her voice barely above a whisper.
What were they even doing? Had he returned just to sleep with her? "I'm asking you, too, give yourself to me," he said, his laughter devoid of warmth, low and sinister. After uttering these words, he gripped her hand and leaned in to kiss her.
Victoria held her breath the moment their lips met. But soon, he was at it again. The fervor from just moments ago at the door was replaced with a deliberate, tormenting slowness. Alexander Harrington studied Victoria Kensington, her breath hitched in fear, and the anger within him seemed to wane. He felt an irresistible urge to draw her in, whispering softly, "Vicky, open your mouth."
Victoria's cheeks reddened with indignation as she bit down hard on her lip. Turning on the bedside lamp, Alexander observed her flushed cheeks and couldn't suppress a chuckle. He teased her lips playfully for a moment before murmuring low, "Even if you seal your lips shut, I can still pry them open. If I do, you'll be my birthday present tonight."
Victoria's eyes snapped open in disbelief as she stared at him. His smile was devilish as she fought the urge to cry. Why should opening her mouth make her his birthday gift? Hesitantly, she relaxed her lips, but how could someone so naive satisfy a man's desire?
He kissed her again; her lack of resistance meant he could kiss her as he pleased. Her nerves made her want to curl up, but her hands were quickly seized by his again. His kissing grew more dominant, so much so that she felt the buttons of her blouse come undone. Her voice a husky whisper of sorrow, she pleaded, "Alexander, please don't."
"Do you still like that boy?" he abruptly asked. In the dim light, their eyes met; her mind unexpectedly cleared up as she shook her head quickly, "No, not at all."
"No, what?" he pressed. "I don't like him," she admitted. He felt a wave of satisfaction at her words, but a casual glance downward caught his attention at her chest. She wore a simple oatmeal-colored bra today—ordinary but... The heat in him flared even more.
"So, who do you like?" he asked again. Victoria gazed at him, saying nothing, but tears slowly began to spill. And as soon as one fell, they surged forth.
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