CEO’s REDEMPTION

I put on my night dress and climb onto the bed beside my husband. My husband for the next one month or so. He helps me get under the duvet with ease, coming so close to me as I rest on the soft mattress. So close that his sweet whiff is nuzzling my nostrils, or better still, I’m breathing in his warm pheromones, and my fears out.

Our faces are flawlessly in alignment, and our features are sweetly outlined under the illuminations of the orange and red lamps. I can feel his eyes digging through the delicate skin of my face, but I evade his gaze. For the first time since I came into his life, I am scared of meeting his eyes. I feel a weird kind of fear since his announcement in the meeting this morning.

This is odd. And baffling.All rights © NôvelDrama.Org.

I start closing my eyes, to try and sleep over this new feeling, and also because I have nowhere else to conceal my trepidations. I am sure by now he knows I am averting his gaze. I am that obvious. I know.

“Are you mad at me?” His sweet cold voice rings so loud in the silence between us, urging my eyes to peel.

I blunt my gaze to him, our eyes strutting in each other’s under the beautiful lights for a moment.

Am I mad at him?

This was not part of the agreement. Sentiments and attachments were out of bounds. Love, if at all this is it, will be against the agreement. We are bound by a consensus that we both assented to, and none of this is part of that agreement. Then again, should I be angry at him? Should I curse myself for allowing things to get to this point?

I was the sane one. I should have been in total control. I shouldn’t have allowed this. But I did what I swore to do to help him, to make him feel better, and he needed all that. So whose fault is it?

“Love? What’s wrong? You have been awfully quiet since we left the office. Talk to me. Please?” He pleads, his arm sneaking over my hip, talking a lagged tour up and down my back.

I think I now know what the problem is. This. Him being so romantic. Speaking to me in this cold but soft tone that melts my heart. His concern for me is adding to the intricacies. I should have been the one to care for him because he wasn’t well, not him. This is not right. This is the problem.

I sneak my hand under the duvet trailing his on my back. I clench onto his, deterring him from further burning my back with his touch. I want him to stop, not because this doesn’t feel good at all, but because I want him to realize this is not part of our agreement. That this is all wrong in all senses. That this is what is bringing complications, and until this stops, we will continue sinking into this ship that has no destination nor direction.

“Don’t!” He hoarses when I attempt to yank his hand away from my back, and his fingers dig into the so tiny layer of my satin dress, the sensation making me wince.

“This is not right anymore, hub…” Shit! How deep have I sunk into this madness?

Hubby?

“Stop being so resistant. You are used to calling me that and I am not complaining. I like that. Why refrain yourself?” He asks, embarking on his tour around my back, jerking himself forward to press his front on me.

His hard rock chest is tightly pinched on my soft one, his sweet echoes of the heart like a lull to my pulsating one. I am caged in his strong grip. I am breathing his air and him mine. My aqua orbs are bored deep into his dark bottomless ones, scanning for something that even I don’t know.

“You are okay now, Jerol! You know the rules and this, all this is no part of the rules.” I whimper when I finally find my voice.

I feel his arm abandon my back, and I breathe out a sigh of relief. Finally, the emotional fire is about to stop. Then, I feel him sneak it between us, and it brushes my chest as it makes its way further up. I tense, confused about his actions.

“We made the rules, right?” He queries as his hand rests on my chin, fondling with it.

We? No – it was him. He made the rules and I consented to them all. But even if we did make them together, what disparity would it make? The fact still remains that we are bound by that contract.

“No, Jerol. You did. You made the rules. You drew that contract. And I agreed to the clauses. We both know…”

“That’s my point, Tessa! I made those rules. So we are answerable to no one else but ourselves.” He cuts me off in a whisper, and even he is scared that he is actually saying that.

Meaning what?

Wait…

So what if we owe no freaking human being any explanation for this? The rules still stand. The contract still stands. It’s laying somewhere in this room. How can we overlook what we signed up for, and for what?

“Can we just, forget about that contract for now, please?” His fingers are sketching something on my cheek as he queries.

My lips plummet to mumble something, but it seems like I swallowed my voice. I forget to even breathe for a minute. All I can do is stare at him, pondering on the weight of his words.

Forget?

For now?

“W… h… y?” I muster my voice after a decade of screaming silence. “What will happen once we forget about the contract?” I add, my pulse racing with zeal.

“Tessa, I know that I can’t pay you back for everything you have done for me so far, but I still want to do something for you in return. Just… a show of gratitude.” He says.

A show of indebtedness?! What could be more than the fifty million lying in my bank account and the remaining fifty that I will be getting in a month? He has done more than enough with that. What’s with this?

“You have done more than enough, Jerol. I am not asking for anything else. I don’t have any right to demand anything.” I explain as simply and calmly as I can be.

“But I want to, Tessa. The millions I am giving you are nothing correlated to the kindness, care, and love that you’ve shown me for these few months. You didn’t limit yourself to the money and the damn contract. You risked your safety for my recovery. You’ve borne and sacrificed so much for me. Please, let me do something. Please!.” He explains, and at this point, he is cupping my cheek, his thumb caressing my lower lip.

I feel bad seeing him beg like this. I should say no to him. I should stick to what is right but something strong is compelling me.

“What do you want to do?” I implore.

Another step into the deep sea of complications. We are not safe at all anymore.

“I don’t know. Something… unforgettable!

Ahem!

Unforgettable?

“I am sure you’ve already imprinted a mark in my life. As early as now, I can sincerely tell you that I will never forget you, Jerol.” I say, a small grin flickering on my lips.

“As the insane Jerol. The weak man who couldn’t handle a simple break-up. The lunatic beast who hurt you countless times. The scars I have inflicted on you are a good relic. I know.” He says.

Who said that?

“Wrong! As the man who changed my life. A cold but sweet billionaire.” I brat out.

“Cold but sweet, huh? Still, allow me just one chance. I promise I won’t ask for more after that.” He pleads once more, and I think I just ran out of opposing points.

Then what will happen afterwards? Regrets? Self-blame? Then we loathe each other due to the aftermath? Can I accept this? Is this okay?

“Don’t think too much. Forget the damn contract for now. Just say yes, please? I promise to make it worthwhile.”

The way he says it tops my eagerness. What on earth is he planning?

“You won’t regret anything after?” The words just rolled out, and I guess that means I have already put one foot in the grave.

“No. Will you?” He responds.

Me? I don’t even know what’s in his wild mental pot.

“I honestly, don’t…”

I am silenced with a deep kiss that scatters my brain, and sets my whole body a blaze.

As our lips dance to the chimes of our obligatory desires, as I tremble in his arms and flip my hand to his jaw to hold him still, I am thinking of nothing else but this sweet addictive kiss. I yearn for nothing but this moment of insanity. Melting in his arms like this is the sweetest sin that ever exists.

He roughly pulls away after a very short moment according to my horny self. Gasping for air, I lick my sore lower lip. The imprints of his savage kissing make me brush. I swallow hard the sweet chocolate taste of his taste, and I love how it goes down my throat, making me yearn for more.

“I will make sure you won’t regret it. Promise.” His icy tone echoes with so much tickling vigor that sends jolts through my whole body.

As he leans in for another kiss, I welcome him with every single ounce of me, and with a passion equal to or more than his, but no less. To wherever this insanity drives us to, hail sin and pleasure. I have sunk too deep to resist anything!