MY PRINCE HUSBAND HAS SEVEN WIVES AND I AM HIS FAVOURITE!
Chapter 156: No more running

Chapter 156: No more running

THE Chapter IS SLIGHTLY SMUTTY. IF YOU DON’T LIKE READING SUCH, YOU CAN SKIP TO THE NEXT Chapter

"Am I really not welcome here, Hua Jing?"

His voice was low—a whisper, rough and deep, but filled with something else.

Something dangerous.

Something undeniable.

Hua Jing’s breath hitched.

Zhao Yan was close. Too close.

The lanterns cast a golden glow across his face, sharpening the strong lines of his jaw, the curve of his lips.

But it was his eyes that held her still.

That trapped her, made her chest tighten, made her forget how to breathe.

Golden.

Molten.

Hunger hidden behind patience.

She should move.

She should push him away.

She should—

But she didn’t.

She couldn’t.

Because even as her mind screamed at her to step back—her body betrayed her.

Her fingers curled against the wooden door at her back, nails pressing into the grain.

She could feel everything.

The heat rolling off his body, the way the space between them felt too small, the electric pull in the air tightening like a string drawn too taut.

"Answer me," Zhao Yan murmured, his voice deliberate, controlled.

His breath ghosted over her lips.

"I..." Hua Jing swallowed, her voice barely above a whisper. "I don’t know."

Zhao Yan exhaled, his gaze flickering over her face—searching.

"That’s not an answer," he said softly.

His hand lifted.

Slowly.

As if giving her time to stop him.

But she didn’t stop him.

His fingers brushed her cheek, featherlight.

She trembled.

Not from fear.

Never from fear.

But from the weight of this moment.

From the way her heart felt like it was going to shatter inside her chest.

Zhao Yan tilted his head slightly, studying her, his thumb tracing a slow, agonizing path along the curve of her jaw.

"You’re afraid," he murmured.

Hua Jing’s lips parted.

"I’m not," she whispered.

He smiled. A small, knowing curve of his lips.

"No?"

His thumb pressed lightly beneath her chin, tilting her face up just enough to ruin her completely.

She gasped softly.

He heard it.

He felt it.

And his expression darkened.

"Then tell me to leave," he murmured. "Tell me to walk away."

His forehead brushed against hers, the barest touch, yet it sent shivers racing down her spine.

"Tell me you don’t want this, Hua Jing," he whispered against her lips.

Hua Jing shook.

Shook with the weight of everything.

She had spent so long running.

So long convincing herself she hated him.

But now—

With his breath against her skin, with his hands cradling her face like she was something fragile and precious—

She knew.

She had never hated him.

She had never wanted to run.

She had only ever wanted him.

And he knew it, too.

Because she didn’t say it.

She didn’t tell him to leave.

She didn’t tell him to walk away.

Instead—

She did the only thing she could.

She closed the distance between them.

She kissed him.

And Zhao Yan—Zhao Yan did not hesitate.

His control snapped.

His hands dug into her waist, pulling her flush against him, pressing her back against the door with undeniable possession.

The heat of him, the hard planes of his body, the raw hunger in the way his lips moved against hers—

It was too much.

Not enough.

Never enough.

Hua Jing gasped, but the sound was lost between them as Zhao Yan swallowed every breath, every hesitation, every lingering doubt she had ever carried.

His lips were hot and insistent, his body pressed so intimately against hers that she could feel the wild beat of his heart beneath his robes.

Did he feel it, too?

The way this moment changed everything?

The way there was no going back?

She curled her fingers into his robes, gripping him tightly, as if to anchor herself.

But Zhao Yan wouldn’t let her go anywhere.

His hands slid from her waist, pressing against the curve of her back, deepening the kiss until she was utterly consumed.

She moaned softly against his lips, and he groaned in response.

The sound shot straight through her, unraveling something deep inside.

She wasn’t sure who moved first—

If it was her, pulling him closer, or him, pressing her harder against the door, as if he couldn’t stand a single inch of distance between them.

But it didn’t matter.

Nothing mattered.

Nothing except this.

Nothing except him.

His hand slid up, fingers tangling into her hair, tilting her head back just enough to deepen the kiss further.

Hua Jing’s legs weakened.

Her mind spun.

And still, he didn’t stop.

Didn’t let her go.

Didn’t give her the chance to think or doubt or second-guess.

And she didn’t want to.

She never wanted to.

Zhao Yan broke away only for a fraction of a second, his breathing heavy, his forehead pressed against hers.

His fingers tightened in her hair.

"Say it," he murmured, his voice hoarse.

Hua Jing’s lips tingled, swollen from the kiss, her body a trembling mess in his arms.

"Say what?" she whispered.

Zhao Yan’s thumb brushed over her lower lip.

"That you want me," he said softly. "That you want this."

Hua Jing’s chest ached.

She couldn’t lie to him.

Not anymore.

Not after this.

Her hands slid up, resting against his chest.

She could feel the rapid, unsteady beat of his heart beneath her fingers.

"Zhao Yan," she whispered.

His eyes blazed.

She swallowed.

And then, finally—

"I want you."

The words barely left her lips before Zhao Yan captured her mouth again, claiming her with a hunger so raw, so unrestrained, it left her breathless.

There was no more hesitation.

No more walls between them.

No more denying what they were.

No more running.

Hua Jing had expected the kiss to slow.

She had expected the intensity to fade, for Zhao Yan to pull back, to give her a chance to breathe.

But he didn’t.

He couldn’t.

Because she had said the words.

I want you.

And Zhao Yan was done waiting.

His fingers slid into her hair, tilting her head back, deepening the kiss until her knees buckled beneath her.

She would have fallen—

But he caught her.

His arm wound tightly around her waist, pulling her flush against him, pressing her against the door as if he could melt her into him completely.

And maybe he already had.

Maybe that’s why her mind was spinning, her body trembling, her entire being burning with something dangerously consuming.

"Zhao Yan—"