Accidental Marriage with the CEO: Unwanted Bride
Chapter 34: unbutton

Chapter 34: unbutton

Her breath hitched at his words, rendering her speechless as she stared into his eyes, trying to decipher whether he was truly serious. Then, she suddenly felt movement between her legs. Her gaze dropped and she frowned when she saw his hand nestled between her thighs. Before she could react, his fingers trailed upward, and then he tilted her chin with his other hand, gently raising her gaze back to his.

"I want your eyes on me," he instructed, his voice husky.

His hand returned to her left thigh, applying the lightest pressure as he began to close in on her. In response, she instinctively shut her legs, which drew a faint sound of displeasure from him.

"No," he murmured, his tone firmer now. "Spread them open for me, Pat."

The way he said her name...Pat, sent a ripple down her spine, goosebumps crawling across her skin. It had never sounded so intimate. She found herself wanting to hear it again.

"I... it’s hot," she whispered, swallowing hard, her breath shallow and quick against him.

"I know," he replied, his voice dipping lower. "Don’t you want me to ease you?"

The word ease had never sounded so sensual in her entire life. What exactly did he mean by that? What was he planning?

"Ho... how?" She asked, her voice trembling.

"You will have to open your legs to find out," he said, eyes flickering between hers and the space between her thighs, building the heat within her to a fever pitch.

Biting her lip, she slowly spread her legs, granting him full access. His hand inched toward her core, pausing just before making contact, as if making sure her body was fully willing.

"Close your eyes," he whispered into her ear, his breath brushing against her skin.

She exhaled shakily and obeyed, closing her eyes slowly, surrendering to the moment.

Then, without warning, Roman pressed his hand against her core through the thin fabric of her nightgown. A breathy moan escaped her lips, and her hands flew up to his waist, gripping tightly for balance.

Satisfied with her reaction, he began tracing slow, deliberate circles over her, and Patricia’s moans deepened. Her fingers dug into his sides, her hips slightly lifting in response to each motion.

"Do you want me to stop?" He asked, leaning in closer and brushing his lips against the sensitive hollow of her neck, clouding her mind with sensation.

"I... I don’t know," she stammered breathlessly, her thoughts scattering.

Roman smiled and intensified his movements, sliding up and down, pressing more firmly now. Her moans grew louder, and her voice broke as she cried out his name. "Roman..."

Her face twisted with pleasure, changing expressions with each wave that surged through her. It felt too good, so good that her mind wandered, imagining how much more intense it would be without the nightgown in the way. She shouldn’t be letting him touch her like this, but she had never been with a man...and she desired to be touched, craved it more than she wanted to admit.

"I can smell your wetness," he murmured against her skin, and her cheeks flushed in embarrassment. She knew what that meant. Was it too obvious? Did it smell wrong?

"Unbutton my shirt," he said next, and she opened her eyes, gaze falling to the buttons in front of her.

With slightly trembling hands, she reached out and touched his shirt but just as her fingers found the first button, a phone rang loudly, shattering the moment.

Startled, Patricia flinched and quickly withdrew her hands.

Roman turned his head, frowning deeply when he saw who the caller was. He stepped away from her and answered the phone, his tone shifting, the intimacy of the moment dissolving.

Patricia slid off the desk quietly, smoothing down her nightgown and tucking stray strands of hair behind her ear. Her heart still raced. Her core still throbbed, wet and unfulfilled but now was not the time to indulge in desire.

She told herself to breathe... to calm down. Even if her body refused to listen.

Seeing that the call was dragging on longer than expected, Patricia quietly turned to leave. But after taking just one step, Roman’s voice stopped her.

"Get ready for an outing tomorrow. I will text you the address," he said, as if they hadn’t just been tangled in something raw and unspoken.

Then, just like that, he went back to his call, his voice cool and unaffected.

Patricia blinked, taken aback by how casually he returned to normal, as though nothing had happened. Was this routine for him? Perhaps he was used to moments like this with women. Perhaps she was the only one rattled. The only innocent one.

She stepped out of his study, still feeling the warmth of his touch ghosting across her skin. As she walked into the hallway, something shifted in the corner of her eye. She paused, glancing around. There was movement. But when she turned fully, there was nothing. No one. Maybe it was just her nerves, still heightened, still alive with adrenaline.

She didn’t return to her room. Not like this. She couldn’t let Zara see her flushed, disheveled... exposed. One look and Zara would know. She always knew. And Patricia didn’t want to answer the questions that would follow.

So instead, she made her way to the garden. The night air cooled her flushed skin, and she sat in silence for a long time, letting the chill settle her, letting it wash away what she wasn’t ready to feel.

Only after her heartbeat had calmed did she finally rise and return indoors for the night.

The following day...

It was a quiet Sunday, and the house was nearly empty. Everyone else had gone about their various plans, and Patricia found herself alone. She had been waiting for Roman’s message, checking her phone now and then, only to eventually grow bored and lie back in bed.

Just as sleep began to tug at her eyes, her phone chimed.

’Nimo and Sons, Freezers Limited. Come in very casual wear and light clothes.’

She frowned at the message. Light clothing? That part felt odd. Why the need for something light?

Still, she didn’t dwell too long on it. Roman could be unpredictable. She got up, changed into something simple and casual, then made her way out with the car designated for her use.

But when she arrived, her confusion deepened.

It wasn’t a restaurant. Or an event center. Or even a place that made sense. It was a small shop. Tucked into a narrow street in a modest, local area. The kind of place she couldn’t imagine Roman stepping foot in. Unbefitting. Suspicious.

Still, she gave it the benefit of the doubt.

Locking the car, she grabbed her bag and walked up to the entrance.

As soon as she stepped in, the door clicked behind her and locked.

Startled, she turned around... and two large men stepped out from the shadows. Both of them looked filthy, their clothes torn and stained. Their presence was threatening. Patricia’s stomach sank.

"Who are you?" She asked, already backing away, rummaging desperately through her bag for her phone only to find it missing.

Her heartbeat thundered. God, what have I walked into?

One of the men chuckled, a grating, dirty laugh. "Michelle said to greet you before you meet your God."

Her breath caught in her throat. Michelle? Zara had warned her once... maybe more than once. This was the second time her instincts had proven right. Patricia hadn’t even wanted Roman. She didn’t want this marriage. Why would Michelle go this far?

She stumbled back and bumped into something solid behind her. A hiccup of fear escaped her throat as she turned, slowly, to see what it was.

Her blood ran cold.

He was hideous. Half of his face was scarred and twisted with burns. And he was standing far too close.

Before she could scream, run...anything, the man leaned forward, his voice low and chilling.

"It’s time to sleep."

Then something pressed hard against her back. And everything went black.

Minutes later...

Patricia groaned, stirring awake with a pounding migraine. Her fingers clutched her head as she tried to sit up, her surroundings blurry at first. But as her vision cleared, so did her horror.

Her breath caught in her throat. Thin garments dangled from hooks above her. The air was ice. The metal walls shimmered with frost.

She was in a deep freezer.

A real freezer. And she was trapped.

Panic gripped her chest. Her breath came in sharp bursts. She was going to die here, wasn’t she?

Frozen. Forgotten.