Whispers of Destiny: His Belated Love

The man bowed his head, his handsome face closing in on Rosemary, his straight nose and those lips - perfect in shape and hue just inches away.

With such an invasion of her personal space, Rosemary's heart raced, and she pushed against his chest, "What are you doing?"

Scared the life out of her! Because they were so close, Maxwell lowered his voice when he spoke, the usual chill in his tone, yet if one listened closely, there was a trace of a smirk, but it couldn't hide the bone-chilling cold, "Given up hope with Martin, thinking of giving Hogan a shot?"

His breath fell on her lips, Rosemary tilted her head back, trying to put distance between them, but her head was already up against the door; there was no escaping.

"Aren't you supposed to be getting ointment? Go lie down over there."

She nodded towards the couch, pushing against Maxwell who was almost completely pressed against her.

This was too risky, and a single careless move and things could go off, although Maxwell seemed to have more self-control in these matters, with no rumors of him cozying up to any woman during the three years Victoria was gone, but who knew what could happen.

Maxwell chuckled, his lips brushing hers, "I'm asking you the question."

Even without going any deeper, this alone was enough to send Rosemary into meltdown, especially as he spoke, his lips grazing hers so subtly.

Her rationality snapped like an over-tightened string in that instant. She didn't even care if her resistance would piss off Maxwell; she was pushing and shoving with all her might to break free from his hold.

She didn't speak, her lips pressed into a tight line, giving Maxwell no opportunity to take advantage.

The man looked down; even from this close, he could clearly see the rejection and panic in her eyes. She really didn't want him touching her.

Eyes red with anger and grievance, a pert nose, tight red lips, cheeks flushed with color, and fair delicate skin...every part of her was tempting him to kiss her.

Without any regard, ignoring all her rejections. With Maxwell's skill, he could subdue a woman with one hand, and with the natural physical disparity between men and women, she stood no chance of escape.

And Rosemary could feel Maxwell's reaction. Her eyes widened in astonishment, a look of disdain in her gaze; men's minds and bodies indeed operated separately.

Maxwell, the instigator, showed no embarrassment at being seen through, and when he met Rosemary's eyes, he even rasped, "Stop moving."

Rosemary clenched her teeth, "If we switched places, and I told you not to move, would you listen?"

Maxwell's lips curved into a smirk, a low chuckle, "You could try."

Right, no reasoning with a beast. In the awkward silence, there came a couple of knocks on the door, "Rosemary, are you there?"

It was Martin. A clear joy flashed in Rosemary's eyes; at a time like this, anyone, even a stranger, was a welcome interruption.

She looked at Maxwell, a silent demand, "Let go."

Maxwell's icy gaze was fixed on her, unmoved. Neither spoke, but their intentions were clear.

It felt like a long standoff, yet it was perhaps only a few seconds before the knocking came again, more urgent this time, "Rosemary?"

Maxwell instructed, "Tell him to leave."

His voice was so low it didn't carry through the wall separating them from Martin outside.

Rosemary immediately refused without hesitating, "Not gonna happen."

If Martin left, who knew how long Maxwell's madness would last? After what just happened, she had no faith in his morals.

With her refusal, the handsome man's face darkened under the light, he pinned Rosemary's hands against the door panel, his lips close to her ear, "A Martin, a Hogan, how many more men do you plan on attracting in the future?"

It was then that Rosemary truly understood, a man's physical reaction and actually wanting her were two very different things.

He was kissing her. Not the vicious, violent type that seemed to want to devour her, but a torturous, gentle way, his lips barely touching, nibbling on her earlobe, neck, tracing the contours of her face.

Rosemary couldn't hold back any longer; her rationality shattered, she screamed, "Maxwell, have you lost your mind?"

No matter how hard she kicked and struggled, the man before her was immovable, showing no sign of pain.

She banged desperately on the door behind her, trying to make noise for Martin outside to hear, not caring if it would further enrage Maxwell, already in fury, "Martin, Martin."

Maxwell sneered, his hand slipping from her waist under her clothes, tracing her spine, "Rosemary, who are you calling for?" NôvelDrama.Org holds © this.

Rosemary's mind buzzed, barely comprehending his words, or maybe she did, but didn't want to. All she knew was she had to stop Maxwell, and right now, Martin was the most likely to do it, so, she yelled even louder for "Martin".

Her waist almost crushed by his powerful grip, but in her fear, she felt no pain.

"Rosemary." Maxwell held her chin, his eyes clouded with fury, his rough voice as if squeezed from his throat, "You like him that much? Too bad he doesn't want you, even if you begged, he wouldn't accept you."

“Martin always knows his position. Do you think he’d stoop to meddle in our sexual life just for you?”

Facing Maxwell's mocking gaze, Rosemary felt despair; No, he wouldn’t. Because after she yelled Maxwell's name, there were no more knocks from Martin outside.

The whole world was silent, except for their heavy breathing and arguing, no other sound to be heard.

Rosemary kept mum, glaring at him like a cornered wolf cub, all fierce and bristling. In the eerie silence, the fingerprint lock on the door buzzed as it scanned, and the next second, it clicked open. Martin pushed the door and entered.

Rosemary was pinned by Maxwell, pressed right up against the door, but Martin still managed to get in, which went to show he must have really put his back into it.

Taking in the scene inside, he furrowed his brows tightly. His voice was gentle, but his stance was all boss, "Maxwell, you've scared her."