Chapter 19 Demanding a Kiss

Why was he coming over? Wesley Merritt's face was dark with storm, his frigid gaze locked onto the hand gripping Violet Leach, his entire being radiating an icy chill. So she'd come here with him—just for this man! No wonder she'd agreed. She must have known everything in advance. At the thought, Wesley clenched his fists at his sides, his face as cold as a winter gale, his lips pressed into a hard, unyielding line. Just as Wesley was about to act on impulse, Violet suddenly called out to him. "Husband, he's bullying me." That single word—*husband*—transformed Wesley's inner storm into clear skies. His expression softened instantly, while Brian Mosley's face turned as black as soot. Wesley closed the distance in three strides, seized Brian's wrist, and commanded, "Let her go." Brian frowned, sizing Wesley up. The man looked polished and gentlemanly, yet carried an unshakable, sharp-edged presence. Before he could finish, pain shot through his wrist. Wesley was tightening his grip. Overpowered by Wesley's strength, Brian's hand went numb. He released Violet immediately. Violet slipped to Wesley's side, linked her arm through his, and deliberately flaunted their closeness before Brian. "Violet! Who is he?" Brian snapped. "Are your ears broken? Didn't you hear me call him husband?" Violet arched a brow. Brian stared at Wesley. He was certain—no such man existed in S City's elite circles. Judging by appearance—over six feet tall, lean and athletic, strikingly handsome—could he be a hired model? Or even a gigolo? Was she doing this just to provoke him? The more Brian thought, the more plausible it seemed. No way would he believe Violet had actually married this man. "Hah! Violet, don't think I don't see through you. You hired him, didn't you? A gigolo? You'd really sink this low for me—throw away your dignity?" The moment the words left his mouth, Violet rose onto her tiptoes, wrapped her arms around Wesley's neck, and lightly kissed his lips. "Husband, let's go. Ignore this self-obsessed fool." Wesley's pupils dilated, his heartbeat racing wildly. His eyes, unable to look away, remained fixed on the girl's rosy lips. He lightly pressed his lips together, his throat bobbing with a surge of masculine heat. "Alright." His voice was low, rich, and magnetic. At that single word, Violet froze slightly. She knew the man had a good voice, but that one syllable was so beautiful it made her ears tingle—like music so sweet it could make you swoon. Her face flushed, and she couldn't bring herself to look up. She just kept her arm linked with his as they walked away. Brian's face turned purple with rage. He never expected Violet would kiss another man right in front of him—just to spite him. They'd grown up together, been close for so long, yet she'd never kissed him. Beyond holding hands, they'd never crossed any line. "Violet! Leach!" Brian gritted out. Once they reached a quiet spot, Violet immediately let go of Wesley's arm, stepped back, and pulled away. "Um, that was an emergency. I didn't get your permission, so I, uh—sorry." Wesley looked at the space between them, his brows drawing together, a flicker of displeasure in his eyes. Violet noticed the darkening look. She'd made a mistake! She'd been too caught up in the thrill—seeing Brian's furious face had felt so satisfying—yet she'd forgotten Wesley was known for avoiding women. He must be furious now. "So… hit me back?" She'd almost said, "Then kiss me back," but knew that might only anger him more. She closed her eyes and leaned her face toward Wesley. "Go easy, okay?" Wesley stared at the face so close, his breath growing ragged. The frozen wasteland in his eyes burst into flame. After a deep rise of his chest, Wesley raised his hand and cupped her face. Her small, delicate face fit perfectly in his palm. He leaned down, his gaze hazy. In that moment, Wesley completely lost control. The lingering warmth and taste on his lips were too intoxicating—he wanted to taste her again. Taste her deeply. Explore her thoroughly. Violet, eyes still closed, felt strangely puzzled. What was he doing? Wasn't he supposed to hit her? Why was he cupping her face?