It felt as though he had branded her, leaving his mark deep on her body. Even though her mind resisted, her body betrayed her, responding eagerly to his touch.
Celia hated the way she felt—like one of those women who said no with their lips but whose body revealed the truth.
Nathaniel's hunger quickly outgrew a kiss. It had been far too long, and the restraint he once had was gone. His hands grew impatient, tugging at her clothes as though they were in his way.
"Stop, Nathaniel! That hurts!" Celia grabbed his wrist, her voice trembling.
"Cici," his tone was rough, tinged with frustration, "why must you always resist me? You cry out before I've even begun to touch you?"
Her heart twisted. She couldn't let him know—couldn't tell him she was pregnant, only a month along. The last time, back in Yecheng, he had nearly harmed the baby without realizing it.
But she didn't want to be with him at all, not like this. Fearful of his anger, she tried to soothe him. Her small hands slid up his shoulders, wrapping around his neck as she lifted her face to his. "Couldn't you be gentler?" she whispered, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.
Nathaniel froze, stunned that she was taking the initiative. His grip loosened, his eyes closing as he surrendered to her kiss.
Celia shifted, rolling carefully on top of him so his weight wouldn't crush her belly. To Nathaniel, it only looked as if she was unusually passionate. His voice dropped low, husky: "Cici, did you miss me this much?"
She didn't answer. Instead, she kissed his chiseled face, her lips brushing over his jaw.
He raised a hand to his eyes, as if trying to steady himself, but then he caught a faint, unfamiliar fragrance.
The woman in his arms blurred. His heavy hand reached out to pull her back, but she was gone.
"Cici…" His voice broke as his hand fell uselessly. Darkness pulled at him, and within moments, he sank into a heavy sleep.
Standing at the bedside, Celia gazed down at him. Her voice was soft, almost broken. "I'm sorry, Nathaniel."
She slipped away, pulling her phone from her bag. After a long hesitation, she made a call.
Nathaniel stirred, his lashes flickering open. He was still in the inn, still lying in the same bed.
What had just happened? Why had he suddenly passed out?
"Nathaniel, you're awake!"
The cheerful female voice startled him. Turning his head, he saw Laura Yates sitting on the edge of the bed, her beautiful eyes full of concern.
Nathaniel stilled, then glanced quickly around the room. The slender figure was gone—Celia had vanished. Only Laura remained.
"Why are you here?" His voice was low, rough.
"The inn called me. They said you were injured and resting here, so I came as fast as I could." Laura's eyes drifted to the wound on his abdomen. "Nathaniel, did you get hurt saving Celia again? I told you—she isn't worth it. A woman like her… she'll never appreciate you."
Nathaniel leaned back against the headboard, his gaze fixed on the ceiling. He wasn't a fool. He knew instantly what had happened.
She had left. And before leaving, she had called Laura—hand-delivering him into someone else's care.
A cold laugh slipped from his lips.
Nathaniel curled them into a hard sneer.