Chapter 146: Chapter 146- tempt
For Morrison, the longing that had built up over the past year was all concentrated in this kiss.
He kissed her with a desperate, greedy intensity, lips pressing against hers again and again, tasting, claiming, refusing to let go.
He knew he shouldn’t—she would be angry—but he couldn’t help it. After longing for her for so long, he just wanted to hold her, to kiss her, to feel her close.
Earlier, when she had let him stand outside in the rain, ignoring him, his heart had been a hollow pit. But then, fate seemed to favor him, and the rain had started.
Standing there, drenched, he had silently wondered if she would let him in. And when she finally approached with her umbrella, he knew he had won.
She hadn’t let him suffer all night. Even a little spark of care for him had shown.
Delighted, he pressed her closer. No matter how she resisted, it was useless against the strength of his arms. He was determined—he would kiss her until the ache in his chest, the yearning of the past year, had been fully sated. Only then did he let her go.
Being soaked through, her body pressed against his, he could feel every curve and softness beneath the thin fabric, stirring feelings he could only allow himself to acknowledge but not act on.
Lilian’s first reaction was to wipe her lips fiercely.
"Morrison, you bastard!"
She shoved him away and ran toward the villa.
Morrison grabbed his umbrella and bag and followed. The rain fell harder and harder. By the time Lilian reached the villa, she was soaked. As she tried to shut the door, he forced his way in, shameless as ever.
Lilian, furious and exhausted from the rain, ran upstairs to her room. Soaked to the skin, she headed straight for the bathroom, taking a hot shower and changing into dry clothes. Thinking about the wet man still downstairs—and the kiss just now—she sighed and decided to ignore him. Let him deal with himself.
She locked her door, settling in, only to hear his voice calling from below:
"Lilian, can I borrow a clean towel?"
Gritting her teeth at his drenched state, she went to the guest room and brought a towel downstairs.
When she arrived, Morrison had taken off his shirt, standing bare-chested, water dripping down him, every line of his body visible through the soaked pants clinging to him.
Just moments ago, she had felt him pressed against her—now, face burning with a mix of anger and embarrassment, she threw the towel at him and stormed off.
Morrison yanked the towel off his head and glanced at Lilian as she hurried away, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.
Then he looked down at himself, sighed, and stepped into the bathroom downstairs.
Thinking back, although their on-and-off relationship had lasted over a year, the time he had actually felt her close to him had been fleeting. And now, after more than a year apart, being so near yet unable to truly have her—it was torment.
Meanwhile, Lilian, back in her room, found she couldn’t fall asleep either. All she wished was for the rain to stop so she could send him to a hotel—she wouldn’t be keeping him here.
Lost in thought, she suddenly sneezed several times in a row. Rising angrily from the bed, she went to the medicine cabinet to grab some cold medicine. After being held and kissed in the pouring rain, and then running back drenched, her fragile constitution was bound to catch a cold.
She found the medicine downstairs, only to turn around and see Morrison emerging from the bathroom, wrapped only in the towel she had handed him.
Her eyes narrowed in exasperation.
"Why aren’t you dressed?"
Morrison looked at her innocently.
"My clothes are all soaked—you know that."
She pointed at his travel bag, fuming.
"Didn’t you bring a change of clothes?"
He shrugged casually.
"I did, but the bag got wet too—"
"Who’s going to believe that? Your bag is supposed to be waterproof!"
She didn’t trust him one bit. His bag was an expensive designer brand—it was supposed to be impervious to water.
Morrison walked over, handed the bag to her, and said,
"Check it yourself."
What he didn’t tell her was that he had deliberately left the zipper slightly open when the rain started, ensuring that his clothes inside would get soaked too.
Instinctively, Lilian stepped back as he approached. His current state was nothing but dangerous to her. She took the bag and checked—sure enough, everything inside was wet. But she couldn’t just let him wander around in a towel, so after confirming, she returned the bag to him and headed upstairs.
Luckily, she was staying at Bert’s place, and Bert’s clothes were similar in size—she could temporarily let Morrison wear them.
As Lilian went upstairs, Morrison noticed the cold medicine she had left out. His brow furrowed. She was catching a cold?
He recalled holding her in the rain, kissing her so desperately, and a wave of guilt washed over him. He had been so consumed by his longing for her that he forgot how cold rain could make them both sick. If she got sick... he couldn’t bear it.
Without hesitation, he went straight to the kitchen.
Looking around, he could tell Bert was someone who appreciated good food—everything was well-equipped. But Morrison didn’t have time to admire the kitchen. He quickly grabbed ginger and brown sugar, starting to brew a warming ginger tea for her.
Lilian came downstairs with a set of Bert’s clothes in hand. Seeing him busy in the kitchen, she had no interest in what he was doing.
"I brought a clean set of my brother’s clothes. Put them on already!" she said, standing in the doorway, tone sharp.
Morrison turned on the stove, letting the ginger tea simmer, then stepped out of the kitchen. He cast a glance at the clothes in her hands and shook his head firmly.
"Bert’s? I’m not wearing them."
Lilian’s patience nearly snapped.
"Then you’re just going to stay in that towel forever?"
"Exactly. I’d rather stay in the towel than wear Bert’s clothes!"
Morrison’s refusal was resolute, almost defiant.
Lilian, fuming, tossed the clothes onto the sofa. She gritted her teeth and muttered,
"Then just stay naked."
She turned to leave, but a few steps later, she stopped, spun around, and added,
"There’s a washing machine in the bathroom, with a dryer too. Make sure you wash and dry your clothes yourself!"
She didn’t want him using wet clothes as an excuse to linger any longer. With that, she stormed upstairs, forgetting all about taking her cold medicine.
As for why Morrison refused Bert’s clothes—it wasn’t just pride. He and Bert had never gotten along, and he had no intention of wearing anything of Bert’s. More importantly, he was deliberately keeping himself half-naked, a subtle way to tease and tempt her.
Thinking back to her airplane antics—watching all those male model videos—he snorted. If she enjoyed seeing toned men strut in their designer outfits, well... he was just as good, if not better. Let her see him, up close and real.
After Lilian disappeared upstairs, Morrison loaded his drenched clothes into the washing machine she had mentioned. By the time the ginger tea was ready, his clothes were clean and fresh.
And still, he refused to wear them. Towel wrapped around his waist, ginger tea in hand, he made his way upstairs and knocked on her door, a mischievous glint in his eyes.