Love at First Night: The Billionaire's First Love-Chapter 38: But how could I resist you?

>Mallory

It was night. The only light in the room came from the bluish glow of the moon. I looked down at my son, sleeping so peacefully. His chest rose and fell in slow, steady movements. I pulled the blanket higher over him, tucking it around his shoulders so he wouldn’t wake in the middle of the night cold. I kissed his forehead. He shifted slightly, eyes fluttering, but stayed asleep. I smiled faintly and patted him once, then stepped back.

The door clicked shut behind me, and as soon as it did, I collapsed to the floor, sitting awkwardly—knees bent, feet tucked under me, hands covering my face. I didn’t even try to hide it.

Too much had happened today. I was tired. Completely, utterly drained.

I never really cared about my childhood. Thinking about it always left a bad taste in my mouth, and honestly, I’d pushed it away for years. But now... now that I try to remember, I can’t. I can’t remember much at all. It’s like my mind is a jar with a lid I can’t open. And that... that emptiness makes my chest ache in a way I hate.

Should I ask them about it? No. Absolutely not. I left that family for a reason. I don’t want to be tied to them. I don’t want to care about them anymore.

"Ah! This is so frustrating!" I whispered angrily, tugging at my hair.

Curiosity really might kill the cat. I think I finally get it.

And then there’s Venzrich. That stupid, perfect, infuriating man. Why did I...? I don’t even know. Sure, I always check my son’s mouth when he puts something in it. That’s instinct. But... Venzrich isn’t a child. He’s a grown man. Why would I...?

"But still, why would I dig in his mouth?" I screamed silently. Heat spread across my face when the image of him licking my fingers flashed in my mind. My chest felt tight. My hands clenched into fists as I pressed them to my cheeks.

I’m going insane.

I needed something to drown these feelings somehow.

I stumbled to the stairs, gripping the railing. My legs shook so badly I had to stop halfway down and lean against it. Each step felt heavier than the last. My body was tired in a way I hadn’t felt in years, but I kept going.

I went to the fridge and opened it. The fridge was full, arranged in a very organized manner. My eyes darted between the leftover food they probably left for me since I refused to come out of the room.

Good thing that man always and only ever comes home if he wants to. I guess being a very accomplished businessman comes with its own set of responsibilities.

He often comes home every morning and straight to his room; we only ever interact when his schedule is free. Good thing his face looks immune to eye bags—he always does look refreshed and mesmerizing.

It irritates me sometimes, but mostly... I can’t stop thinking about him.

Damn. Why am I even thinking about him right now? Wake up, me!

No luck in the fridge. Juice, milk, water. Nothing strong enough.

"Why is there not a single alcohol bottle in this fridge?" I complained before shutting the refrigerator. One of my hands was on my waist while the other rested on my chin.

Hmmm... There has to be one somewhere.

I opened the cabinets. Too many. Some I hadn’t touched since moving in. I scanned carefully, drawer by drawer, shelf by shelf.

And there it was—a few wines, rum, and a transparent drink called Evercle... looks good to me.

That vodka I used to drink looks transparent too. Maybe it’s the same as this?

Should I mix it with juice so I won’t get drunk easily?

I tapped my chin as if thinking deeply before smiling and running to the fridge, a bottle of orange juice in one hand and the transparent alcohol in the other.

I went over to the sofa, grabbed a pitcher and a bottle that looked really expensive, and placed them on the glass table. It had been six years since I last drank. Six years. I deserved this.

I mixed a few generous pours of the white alcohol into the pitcher and added the orange juice. When I thought it looked good enough, I started pouring myself a glass and drinking it.

I felt warmth spreading from my chest to my throat. Sweet and burning at the same time. My shoulders relaxed. The tension started to melt away.

"Yes. This is it! The taste of adulthood." I cheered for myself before pouring another drink.

I sank into the sofa, glass in hand, flicking through channels. I wasn’t really watching. My brain felt fuzzy, soft at the edges, as though I were floating slightly above myself. I poured another glass, then another. Half the pitcher disappeared faster than I realized.

My vision blurred. My tongue felt thick. My thoughts... scattered. The worries that had consumed me just an hour ago—the fear, the guilt, the frustration—they all seemed gone, pushed away by heat and sweetness and the slow burn of alcohol.

???

Am I seeing things, or are there shadows towering over me? 𝒇𝙧𝙚𝓮𝙬𝙚𝓫𝒏𝓸𝓿𝓮𝒍.𝓬𝙤𝓶

I shook my head to clear my vision, and there it was—the beautiful face of the man who’d been bugging my mind all this time, looking down on me like I’d committed something heinous. Still handsome.

I smiled sheepishly while looking at him. It must be a dream; he never really comes home this late.

"What do you think you’re doing, woman?" he spoke in that cold, deep, smooth, commanding voice.

You must be superhuman not to find that face attractive. I’m a pretty normal person myself, and I’m not that strong with this kind of temptation.

Maybe I should take this chance since it’s a dream? I giggled to myself, my hand over my mouth to suppress my barely contained joy.

I stood up, my head almost as tall as his chest. His scent hit me first—expensive, calm, subtle but unmistakable. My fingers reached out. They brushed against his abdomen, slid up his chest, traced the movement of his throat as he swallowed, and finally rested on his chin.

Suddenly, his hand shot out. He grabbed my wrist, yanking me closer. His body pressed into mine as he leaned closer to me. Heat radiated from my skin as his warm breath brushed against it.

"Fuck! Are you doing this on purpose?" he muttered. "If you wanted to get drunk, at least learn some restraint."

"But how could I resist you?" I whispered, breath catching, heat climbing my neck.

He exhaled sharply, tilting his head back, staring at the ceiling like he was praying... or maybe cursing.

"Fine," he said at last, eyes locked on mine. "I’ll give you what you want."

Before I could react, his hands gripped my waist. He pulled me flush against him. We collided with a soft thud. His chest rose and fell against mine.

"But this time..." His voice was low, almost gasping for air. "...I’m making sure you’ll never forget it."