CHAPTER 40: CHAPTER 40: LIKE JUST NOW

Jean Ellison’s eyes widened, she saw him with his eyes closed, his flawless skin seemingly asleep.

No, it wasn’t.

The hand resting on her slender back moved precisely upward, stopping when it found a metal clasp.

Jean was momentarily stunned, feeling the item supporting her chest shift slightly.

"You..."

Just as she uttered a word, her mouth not yet closed, the man opened his eyes again, his deep black gaze staring straight at her.

The next second, a large hand pinched her sharp chin, thin lips engulfing her words, a tingling sensation coursing through her entire body.

Her lips hurt, it felt like he was about to grind them raw.

Her brow furrowed.

In her stunned state for a few seconds, she fell onto a soft bed, unwittingly finding herself in the bedroom.

A full weight pressed down on her, the breath against her chest irregular and uneven, a cool sensation in her mouth, she was breathing heavily.

Her hands were encircled by another hand, pulled above her head.

Her gaze fell from the ceiling.

All she could see was the plump curve of her nightgown and the man’s short black hair.

"Don’t... don’t bite."

She shivered slightly, the front of her nightgown in disarray, her knees involuntarily lifted, her slender legs assuming a curled position.

Jean’s throat tightened, her voice weak, unaware of how captivating it sounded now.

"Justin..."

Her breath was blocked once more.

Justin Holden effortlessly encircled her wrists with one hand, leaving her entire body limp, her wrists leisurely resting on the pillow.

His other hand was beneath her, with just a bit more pressure, she melted completely.

Justin kissed her lips, not letting go for a long time, gentle and slow, almost as if to soothe her.

He looked at the woman beneath him, her eyes wet, staring at him yet unable to focus.

She was kissed to the point where she couldn’t breathe, lacking even the strength to resist, her fingers quietly curling on the pillow.

Jason Holden removed his tie, straddled beside her with a long leg, and unbuttoned his shirt single-handedly.

From collar to abdomen, he undid it, revealing defined muscles, and a clearly visible V line.

He reached for the cabinet beside him.

After fumbling for a long time, he frowned, sweat rolling off his forehead onto the woman’s cheek beneath him.

His hand retracted, stroke Jean’s cheek, her damp black hair caught between his water-gleamed fingers.

Lowering his gaze to her trembling long lashes, the corners of his eyes heating up, every breath unusually heavy.

"You don’t have any here?"

Jean knew what he was asking about, shook her head, she lived alone, it shouldn’t be there.

Justin Holden bit the inside of his cheek, unable to feel pain, only discomfort.

He got up from her, sat at the edge of the bed, picking up the shirt from the floor and slipping it on.

He wasn’t sure what happened to him just now, actually wanting to be with her, was it because her eyes resembled Claire Caldwell’s, giving him a familiar feeling?

She clearly wasn’t.

Jean slowly climbed up from the bed, staring at Justin Holden’s back, her eyes misted over, gaze indifferent.

"What you’re doing, does it do justice to Wendy Wallace?"

Her voice held a tinge of anger, panting.

When he’s in the mood, he presses her onto the bed, touching her.

Would he behave with other women then?

What she lacks, others might have, perhaps even women specifically preparing for him.

Women wouldn’t be scarce around Justin, she had initially thought he at least had feelings for Wendy, but now it seems, he was indifferent to everyone.

"Why should I do justice to Wendy Wallace?"

Justin Holden walked to the bedroom door, stood in the doorframe, turned slightly without looking back.

His voice low and slightly hoarse, as if suppressing something.

"You don’t love her?"

"I love her, the way Samual Pryce goes crazy."

Justin spoke word by word, his cool lips clearly enunciating, like icy blocks falling on her ear.

Jean opened her mouth, the name Samual Pryce sounding familiar, like Justin Holden’s college roommate.

One of the four top talents in the law department, resembling a classic Hong Kong actor, a bit of a rogue charm, surrounded by many fangirls.

Samual Pryce... Old Pryce.

Could it be that the one Wendy Wallace mentioned doing laundry for Justin Holden that day was him, and the one she married too?

She touched her forehead, unable to understand what happened over these five years she was away.

Didn’t Justin Holden once send love letters to Wendy? They mutually liked each other.

So how did Samual Pryce fit into it?

If it was love interfered, how did these three maintain such a good relationship, it was just too ridiculous.

"How do you know Wendy Wallace?"

Justin Holden calmly looked at her, his gaze somewhat scrutinizing.

Jean tugged at her wrinkled nightgown, the fabric crumpled, the front becoming loose.

She slowly got down from the bed, stepping barefoot onto the carpet, speaking sluggishly: "I don’t know Wendy Wallace, it’s what the people in the community say, that the mistress of that house is Wendy Wallace."

She referred to the Corvin River Rose Garden villa.

"So, you think I married her?"

Justin Holden walked towards her, a tie in hand, Jean stepped back with each of his steps, apprehensive gaze falling on his large hands.

He often used ties to bind her hands before, and now just thinking about it made her wrists tingle.

Seeing she was backed against a bookshelf, Justin Holden stopped, half a meter away, if she retreated further, her head would hit the shelf corner.

"That day you turned and left, was it for this reason."

It baffled him, he thought she was eager to see Philip Paxton.

"She’s indeed the mistress of that house, but I’m not the master."

Justin Holden raised his hand, fingers not yet reaching her cheek, a strand of hair lay on her brow and nose.

Instinctively she dodged, stepped back, her back heavily bumping, hearing the sound of bone hitting the shelf corner, but her head didn’t hurt.

His arm wrapped over her shoulder, his five fingers spread, palm covering the back of her head.

Justin Holden made a muffled sound of pain, she hit so hard.

Jean realized and quickly stepped aside, she saw his hand back swollen, shades of blue-purple.

"Are you okay?"

"Not okay."

Now he was aiming to milk her.

"Seems I can’t drive, where do I sleep tonight?"

With his previous fierceness, Jean wouldn’t dare let him stay, yet he did injure his hand severely.

"Promise you won’t act like before."

She lowered her head, cheeks flushed red, body feeling slightly weak.

Justin Holden tilted his head slightly, looking at her, his jawline sharp, a faint arc curled at the corner of his lips.

"When did I act like?"

She was somewhat endearing, an adult yet believing in a man’s promise.

Jean tightly shut her lips, gritting her teeth, unable to speak those words.