Please Let Me Go, My Contracted Ex-Husband.-Chapter 16 - - passionate photos

Chapter 16 - Chapter 16- passionate photos

Albert rolled up his shirt sleeves and, with a slight leap, plucked down the cluster of locust flowers she wanted. Cynthia stared at him in disbelief.

The striking shade of violet on him dazzled her eyes. She once thought that only Vincent could truly carry this color, but seeing it on the man in front of her was an entirely different experience.

If Vincent wore this color with a gentle, jade-like grace, then Albert gave it a completely different meaning—rebellious and unruly like a devilish Satan, yet calm and elegant, with the composed air of a nobleman.

He held the bunch of locust flowers, leaning slightly toward her until the tip of his nose was almost touching hers, his warm breath surrounding her.

"My little princess, are you satisfied?"

She stood there, holding his jacket in her arms, as meek and reserved as a bashful young bride. Bending down, he whispered softly into her ear, his voice low enough for only the two of them to hear,

"You can rest assured and be my bride now."

Behind him loomed the ever-watchful Lancaster family.

On the way back, she couldn't stop wondering how they would pressure him to give her up, how they would try to sabotage this wedding. Hearing his words now, Cynthia had to admit that even someone as detached and guarded as she was felt a tremor in her heart.

After her mother's death and Vincent's betrayal, she was haunted by the fear and insecurity of being abandoned—that world-crumbling terror of having nowhere left to go. She hated the feeling, hated it with a fierce, marrow-deep bitterness.

She had sworn to become stronger, vowing never to get close to anyone so easily again. If she never drew close or gave away her heart, there would never be a chance of being abandoned again, and she'd never have to face that fear.

Yet, in this moment, he was choosing her despite the pressure, refusing to let her go. It was enough to comfort her fragile and uneasy heart. Perhaps her love for him began in that very moment, with his unwavering resolve not to leave her.

She stood there, staring blankly at his handsome face so close to hers, her heart filled with a whirlwind of emotions. Albert Wilson narrowed his eyes, reaching out to pull her into his arms, then turned back nonchalantly to speak to Mr. Lancaster.

"Mr. Lancaster, I'm taking her out for a dinner. I hope you don't mind?"

"Not at all, not at all…" Mr. Lancaster quickly agreed.

The moment his hand touched her, Cynthia snapped back to reality. She wanted to refuse, but then remembered they still hadn't discussed the terms for their future together. So, she abandoned her resistance and followed him into the car.

He guided her inside, and not long after they'd driven out of the Lancaster estate, the car screeched to a halt on the side of the road. She leaned forward slightly from the sudden stop, and just as she settled back into her seat, she saw him abruptly turn toward her, reaching out. Startled, she cried out,

"What are you doing?"

He shot her an amused look.

"Didn't you mention some 'passionate photos'? Thought I'd take a look."

His hand continued its search across her, clearly looking for her phone.

"I-I deleted them all!"

She stammered, awkwardly explaining while dodging his playful advances.

But he showed no intention of stopping, his hands roaming boldly over her, his strength too much for her to resist. Cynthia began to suspect that he was using the phone as an excuse just to get handsy.

She wore shorts so short that his warm fingers kept grazing her bare skin, even brushing against the softness of her chest now and then. Waves of heat started to rise to her cheeks, and with every passing moment, she felt herself drawn back to that night when he'd been just as close, his breath ragged and low in her ear, torturing her with his touch.

"Alright, alright! I'll show you!"

She pushed him away and shrank toward the car door, hastily digging through her bag and passing him her phone.

He took it, his dark eyes fixed on her with undisguised desire, making her heart race. Thankfully, he didn't press further, instead leaning back in his seat and extending a hand to take the phone, his fingers lazily wrapping around it.

When he saw the outdated model, he raised an eyebrow but found his own photos quickly. Watching him smirk, Cynthia flushed and looked away, feeling incredibly awkward.

Okay, she admitted it—secretly taking racy photos of a man wasn't exactly her proudest moment. But she had felt forced; if she hadn't done it, the Lancaster family would never have let her go so easily.

What she didn't realize, though, was that even if she hadn't, Albert Wilson wouldn't have allowed the Lancaster family to mess with his plans. He wasn't Vincent—he had no weaknesses, no soft spots, and in his world, he reigned supreme.

"Not a bad shot."

Albert said this through gritted teeth and tossed the phone back to her before casually starting the engine.

Truthfully, he didn't care about the photos. What angered him was that she'd dared to scheme right under his nose. Did she think Albert Wilson was a fool? He'd never let a woman underestimate him like that!

If he'd said he was going to marry her, if she was his woman, then he would take care of everything. Why did she have to charge into battle alone? It made him look bad!

"You…are you mad?"

Though he spoke calmly, Cynthia could still feel the irritation radiating from him.

Visit freёnovelkiss.com for the 𝑏est n𝘰vel reading experience.

She tilted her head slightly, observing him. He had long, elegant fingers, defined knuckles, warm and dry-looking, skillfully guiding the steering wheel with a unique charm. His eyes, when he smiled, had a deep crease at the corners that made him look lively and animated; when he wasn't smiling, his gaze held a chilling aloofness.

"Not at all!"

Two words, packed with fire.

Sweat beaded on her forehead as she offered a hesitant apology,

"I'm… I'm sorry. I showed your photo to someone else without your permission…"

If it were a regular photo, it might have been fine, but this one was a bit… compromising. She felt a pang of embarrassment, assuming he was upset about that.

Forgive her; she had never been good with comforting words. She was naturally quiet, and trying to calm him down now felt impossible.

"Then make it up to me."

Little did she know, her apologetic tone only fanned the flames of his frustration.

"If you feel sorry, then make it up to me like this."

The icy words had barely left his mouth before he suddenly slammed on the brakes, leaned over, and kissed her. She was still in shock from the abrupt stop when a shadow fell over her, and his lips pressed down on hers with fierce intensity.

One powerful hand held her by the back of the head as his warm mouth claimed hers, mercilessly tasting her, drawing in her cool sweetness without giving her a moment to think or breathe. By the time she realized what was happening, she was already locked in his arms, gasping and dazed.

"Mmph—Albert Wilson—you're crazy—"

Furious, she pounded her fists against his chest, but his body was like an unyielding wall of steel, refusing to let her go.

She glared at him, her eyes blazing with anger. Damn him—did he think he owned the road, stopping and starting as he pleased? And what gave him the right to kiss her like that?

Albert Wilson ignored the fury in her gaze, lost in the pleasure of tasting her. She was cool and sweet, making him crave more with every kiss. He deliberately ran his tongue along her lips in a teasing, intimate stroke, smirking as her eyes flared even hotter with anger. Before she could even react, he pressed harder, swallowing all her rage in his kiss.

The more she resisted, the more he wanted to conquer her.

In his twenty-six years, he had never met a woman like her—stubborn, proud, fiercely independent, and occasionally selfish and cold to the point of seeming heartless. She was a puzzle he couldn't help but approach, an enigma that kept drawing him in, until eventually, he found himself forgetting why he wanted to marry her in the first place and feeling his own heart drawn to her.

A sharp, impatient honk from behind snapped him back to the present. He released her reluctantly, leaving Cynthia wiping her mouth furiously with one hand and desperately pulling at the car door with the other.

"Open the door! I want out!" she demanded. She couldn't stand another second with him.

Arms crossed, he leaned back with an amused smirk.

"Do you really think that stepping out now, looking like this, on a crowded street, will go unnoticed?"

Cynthia froze, grabbing the rearview mirror. Her hair was disheveled, her lips swollen, and she realized that between the abrupt stop and the time they'd spent inside, anyone would assume what had been happening in the car.

She shot him a furious look and slumped back in her seat, defeated, her face turned to the window, refusing to look at him again.

Seeing her finally settle down, Albert Wilson restarted the car with a smug smile tugging at his lips.

They hadn't driven far when his phone rang. He slipped on a Bluetooth earpiece, answering with a sudden softness that made Cynthia glance over at him, surprised by his gentle tone.