She had thought of it—but she truly had no choice.
Nathaniel Fu lowered his head, capturing Celia's trembling lips.
Startled, Celia quickly raised her hand to cover her mouth, blocking his kiss.
Nathaniel shifted instead, pressing lingering kisses against her smooth forehead. Her dark, misty eyes darted aside, but he caught them too, his lips brushing tenderly across her eyelids.
It was never enough. He caught her delicate wrist with his long fingers, pinning her down against the bed. His voice was husky, edged with desire.
"Cici, the moment you fed me that love flower, you gave me your silent consent."
With that, he bent to seal her lips again.
Celia whimpered softly, her small hand braced against his broad shoulder as she tried to push him away. "Nathaniel… don't do this to me."
He studied the fragile girl beneath him. She turned her face aside in resistance, her silky black hair fanning across the pillow, her right cheek still reddened from the earlier slap. The sight pierced his chest with both ache and tenderness.
His voice roughened, carrying a rare note of desperation. "Cici, I know staying with me only brings you pain. But I'll make it up to you. From now on, whatever you want, I'll give it to you. Even if you asked for the stars, I'd find a way to bring them down to you. Would that be enough?"
Her eyes grew wet, reddened with unshed tears. She knew what he was doing—coaxing her, persuading her to stay.
He couldn't let go of Yara Lu, so he tried to compensate Celia instead, to soothe the wounds he had carved into her heart. And Nathaniel wasn't a man who lied; if he said he would pluck stars for her, he would surely find a way.
She was the first woman Nathaniel Fu had ever tried to coax like this.
Celia's throat tightened. She whispered, "Nathaniel… I don't want any of that."
He licked his dry lips, eyes blazing as he glared down at her. "If you don't want it—then why keep provoking me?"
"I didn't provoke you."
"You didn't?" His laugh was bitter, almost feral. "Who climbed into my bed in Yecheng? Who pretended to be Mrs. Fu and shared my nights? Then, when I returned to the Imperial Capital, who followed me back? I told you to leave—yet you stayed. You hover around me, Cici, always within reach."
His voice deepened, edged with pain and fury. "You knew I had Yara beside me, that I could never give her up. So why keep drawing me in? Was it just to amuse yourself? To torture me like this?"
Nathaniel's chest heaved. He knew she was still angry—angry that in her most desperate moment, he had chosen Yara.
But what could he have done? Yara was his master's daughter.
Still, no one else knew the terror that had seized him that night… the rage when he saw those men forcing Celia down. His hands had shaken, his mind consumed by the thought of what might have happened if he'd arrived a moment too late.
Before her, he had never known love. Never experienced romance. So why was she tormenting him now?
Celia couldn't answer. She hadn't meant to entangle herself with him. Somehow, fate itself had tied their lives together in knots they couldn't cut apart.
Her silence only deepened his torment. In his eyes, it was admission of guilt.
Nathaniel's head dipped, his lips claiming hers with fierce urgency.
His scent—clean and sharp, tinged faintly with the sterile bite of disinfectant—wrapped around her as he kissed her with maddening hunger, his lips bruising hers, tasting her as though he'd never stop.
Celia clenched her teeth, trying to resist.
But he was faster, anticipating her. His hand brushed against her side, fingers grazing beneath her arm in a teasing tickle.
She gasped—soft, breathless, unguarded.
The overhead light blurred in her vision as her body softened under him.
It had been so long since they'd touched like this, so long since she'd tasted the searing heat of his kiss.
And now, his kiss poured over her like water—unrelenting, engulfing, impossible to escape.