"Don't touch me!" Rainer warned in a low voice. Tension overwhelmed him. He pulled Willow who was still clinging to his shirt collar, and dragged her back to another chair.
At that moment, Willow's arm accidentally knocked over the wine glass in front of her.
The glass tipped over, and the dark red wine spilled onto his clean white shirt. The stain spread like ink on paper.
Willow sat back down, staring at him with wide eyes, a confused expression on her face.
Rainer took a deep breath, his jaw tightening, trying to stay calm—and suppress the burning rage inside him.
Turning stiffly to the side, he added, "Stay seated. Don't come any closer!"
The cold liquid seeped through his shirt, cooling his skin. Even that did nothing to ease the fire burning within him.
Willow suddenly pointed at him, her voice sharp, "What do you mean? You won't even let me get close to you? Is that how you treat your wife?"
Willow paused for a moment, her eyes betraying deep anger.
"We're married. Why should I stay away from you?" she continued, her eyelids growing heavier, "Your shirt is soaked with wine; you can't clean it yourself. Let me bathe you."
Ignoring the fact that they were still in the dining room, she reached out her hand, her fingers touching the fabric of his shirt as she tried to remove it.
"Don't move," Rainer hissed, gripping her wrist tightly. He was ready to scold her again when he noticed the small frown on her forehead, her expression shifting to discomfort.
"Rain, you're hurting me..." she whispered softly.
Hearing her words, his grip instinctively loosened. As he released his hold, she turned and, without hesitation, grabbed the collar of his shirt with unexpected strength.
"Willow!" Rainer clenched his teeth, his voice sharp with frustration. Unable to hold back any longer, he struck the back of her neck with a swift, controlled blow.
In her drunken state, she did nothing. She couldn't fight back. The next moment, her body went limp, and she collapsed to the floor.
With a cold, unreadable expression, Rainer rose from his wheelchair, catching her easily before she hit the floor. Without hesitation, he carried Willow to his bedroom. His steps were steady and certain.
He had been staying in this room for nearly a month, and as he entered, a soft, alluring scent enveloped him.
He paused for a moment, looking down, as Willow slept soundly in his arms, her breath steady and slow.
She was heavily intoxicated, her clothes slightly disheveled, her flushed cheeks adorned with a soft pink hue.
Rainer exhaled slowly, then gently placed Willow on the bed.
As he withdrew his hand from beneath her body, Willow suddenly murmured softly in his ear and stretched out her arms, wrapping her arms around his body with a weak movement.
He froze. The warmth of her body pressed against his, the soft curves of her body could no longer be denied, real and beautiful beneath the thin fabric of her shirt.
Willow, completely unaware of what she was doing, pressed her face against Rainer's chest. The coolness of her shirt brought him a sense of relief.
His shirt was made of luxurious fabric, perfectly tailored, but at that moment, he realized that even the finest fabric couldn't compare to the softness of Willow's skin.
Rainer remained silent, forced to sit stiffly at the edge of the bed. His gaze drifted to her face. And though he tried to restrain himself, he couldn't control his desire to keep looking at her.
He had to admit, Willow was utterly captivating, her features delicate and alive, naturally beautiful, even without a hint of makeup.
She continued to hold him, her lips slightly parted, the tip of her tongue barely visible.
As she shifted her body in her sleep, the distance between them vanished. Rainer inhaled the soft, intoxicating scent of her breath—a blend of sweetness and wine.
His eyes darkened slightly. She was right; they were married. There was no longer any reason to hold them back.
In fact, they could be even closer, like this.
His Adam's apple trembled as she drew near. His eyes were fixed on her lips, which parted perfectly and looked challenging.
He couldn't hold back any longer....
As Rainer's lips were about to touch Willow's, his fingers gripped the sheets with intense force, betraying the anxiety within him.
He took a deep breath, as a last-ditch effort in desperation, gathering the remnants of control within him, then suddenly sat up straight.
Willow , still lost in her dream, moved slightly in response, her hand, which had been resting on Rainer's arm, slipping away as she turned to the other side with the soft rustle of the blanket.
Rainer took advantage of the moment to gently release his hand and sit quietly at the edge of the bed, his breath quick and irregular.
The air was filled with Willow's unique perfume, a seductive blend that drew him in like a magnet.
He struggled hard to resist the desire raging inside him. His defenses seemed to crumble in her presence.
Was her charm so profound?
He didn't know what was happening, but one thing was certain: staying here was not an option. He must leave before he loses control of himself.
He must leave, and it is no longer an option but a necessity.
With resolve as fragile as ice, he stands, his movements swift and silent. He leaves the room quickly, leaving Willow in her peaceful sleep, unaware of the emotional storm he had just endured.
Returning to his private room, Rainer stepped into the bathroom. The cold water immediately washed over his body, flowing swiftly like a stream of cold lava trying to extinguish the flame of desire within him, ignited by their closeness earlier. The water gathered and swirled toward the drain.
He wiped his wet hair, his eyelids closing instinctively.
In an instant, Willow's bright smile appeared in his mind. Her red lips were clearly etched in his memory. The sweet scent of her body lingered, enveloping him in her shadow.
His eyes widened in shock and disbelief, evident in the expression on his face.
Rainer lowered his head, realizing he had become aroused. His thoughts suddenly became chaotic, the swirling desire growing deeper and more tempting within him.
Had he lost his mind? Had he become a fool consumed by lust?
Cold water flowed endlessly until it finally stopped, leaving behind the eerie silence of his labored breathing piercing the quiet night air.
...
The loud ringing of her phone woke Willow the next morning.
As she blinked and opened her eyes, she felt a severe headache threatening to pull her back into the comfort of sleep.
With a slight groan, she reached for her phone, her fingers touching the screen to turn off the alarm that was ringing, "First day of work."