Shalene was silent throughout their car ride. Damien focused on the steering wheel and the dark, wet road. The air conditioning was too cold, and Shalene couldn't stand it.
Her teeth were chattering; her nipples hardening beneath her wet blouse, which was covered only by a thin lace bra. Damien inadvertently noticed this out of the corner of his eye.
"Shit! Focus, Damien," he thought.
"Just broke up?" Damien asked suddenly. His voice sounded casual, but alert.
Shalene was taken aback. "How did you know?"
"Red eyes, ring marks on your fingers... classic."
She chuckled softly, aware that her divorce from Chris was commonplace. She didn't leave Chris just because he never touched her, not because of his reluctance to give her his sperm—no. It was more complex than that. It was an accumulation of everything, plus his affair with her stepsister. Shalene couldn't accept that.
"Yes... he didn't want us to have children. He... never touched me," Shalene replied softly, not intending to be too open with a stranger, but she still hurt. She thought that sharing with someone else wouldn't hurt her. After all, she and Damien would only be sheltering for a while. After that, they would be totally strangers.
Damien raised his eyebrows. His hands were still on the steering wheel; his eyes still focused on the road ahead. "Bastard! A woman like you deserves better than him."
Hearing Damien's words, Shalene felt a strange electric shock as her body reacted.
The traffic was heavy, Damien shifted gears manually, accidentally touching Shalene's thigh with his elbow. Her breath caught in her throat. She smelled the scent of rain mixed with Damien's cologne. It was alluring, yet dangerous.
After several trips, they arrived at a shabby motel. "Sunset Inn" was written on the sign.
"There's only one room available. My people will bring your car here after it's been repaired," said Damien. Shalene pursed her lips and nodded slowly.
Damien grabbed a neatly folded towel from the table and handed it to Shalene, while he took off his jacket and hung it up, then checked his cell phone to confirm something. His shirt was wet, but he didn't take it off immediately because the phone rang.
It was from his nephew. He answered it a little way away and spoke softly. Shalene froze as she watched the man. Who was calling him this late? Damien's expression was also serious, his jaw tight, but before long he turned and their eyes met.
Damien's gaze instantly changed and Shalene sensed danger lurking.
"Calm down. For now, you're safe with me," he said softly, then stepped towards her.
Shalene held her breath, swallowing the lump in her throat. However, she was wrong. Damien stopped in the middle, then sat down on the bed.
Shalene unconsciously sighed in relief. She was foolish. Why did she dare to make the decision to be in that small room with a stranger? If she was just being abused, at least she had a reason to have a baby. She no longer cared if it sounded sad and cheap.
But what if Damien then killed her?
The rain was still pouring outside the window, thunder roared, but inside a cramped room, the air turned hot. Tense. Shalene froze in front of the bathroom door, not knowing what she was feeling now. Everything was mixed up in her head.
Her body was naked. She was only wrapped in a thin towel that was too short, revealing her smooth thighs. Her hair was still wet from the rain, dripping water onto her shoulders, then sliding down to her cleavage, which rose and fell with each breath.
Damien sat calmly on the king-size bed, the only one in the room. His shirt was also wet. The buttons were open to his chest, revealing a tattoo that had been faint before, but was now clearly visible to Shalene.
His muscles were visible beneath his tanned skin. His dark, hungry eyes continued to watch Shalene, scanning her from head to toe while remaining calm. Very calm. However, it was frightening and at the same time gave Shalene a strange feeling.
"Take a shower first," he said briefly and flatly, pointing to the bathroom with his chin. "I'll wait."
Shalene nodded quickly, then hurried into the bathroom. Hot water washed away the traces of rain that still clung to her body and hair. She paused. Her heart was beating fast, like a drum of war.
"That stranger... why is my body reacting like this?" she thought. Chris's hands hadn't touched her in a year, but Damien... just with his gaze, managed to make her hips feel hot.
Coming out of the bathroom, Shalene looked for a change of clothes in her bag and found only an oversized T-shirt and shorts. She sighed.
"Good. At least I don't have to sleep in wet clothes," Shalene muttered, looking at the clothes in her hands. "That guy would definitely run away if he saw me wearing these."
However, Damien didn't go anywhere. He stayed in the room, got up from the bed, and took off his wet shirt, revealing the tattoo on his chest clearly. His back was broad, with several scar marks that Shalene was sure he hadn't gotten yesterday afternoon. Damien was definitely not an ordinary businessman. So, who was he?
"The sofa is too small. I'll sleep here," he said as he threw a pillow on the floor.
"But it's cold and uncomfortable. You could get sick. The bed is big. I can share half with you," said Shalene, which she immediately regretted.
"What is wrong with my mouth? I shouldn't have said that," she thought to herself.
Damian, who was about to lie down, stopped. His gaze was fixed on Shalene. "Are you sure?"
Three seconds passed in silence. Shalene nodded faintly, followed by both of them slowly climbing onto the bed, keeping an arm's length between them. The motel lights flickered, causing their shadows to sway on the wall. Shalene lay on her back. Her hands were stiff at her sides. Meanwhile, Damien lay on his side facing her with one hand supporting his head.
"Why did you get divorced?" he asked suddenly in a low voice that echoed in his chest.
Shalene turned her head. Their faces were close—so close that she could feel Damien's warm breath touching her skin. "One year of marriage. No sex. He wouldn't even give me his sperm."
Damien was silent for a long time, then muttered, "Bastard!"
That one word made Shalene feel like there was a small explosion inside her. What woman wouldn't melt when a powerful stranger cursed her husband, who was indeed a bastard?
Shalene shifted her body slightly. Accidentally, her foot bumped Damien's thigh; warm and hard. She quickly pulled her leg away, but Damien held her hand gently but firmly.
She stammered, but Damien shook his head. "Don't feel sorry. You need to be touched, I understand."
Shalene was silent. Damien's fingers traced abstract patterns along her arm, giving her goosebumps. "Damien..."
"Shh..." Damien's thumb quickly touched Shalene's lips—slowly, gently, and successfully silencing her. "Let me."
He rose, leaning on his arms, leaning toward Shalene who could feel his breath on her ear. "Damn, you're beautiful, Shalene... your body is thirsty. I can give you what your husband never gave you."
Shalene's body trembled. Her logic screamed, "Stranger danger! Run!" but her body betrayed her, her womb thinking otherwise.
"I just want a child..."
Damien paused, looking at her intently with his light hazel eyes. "I can give you that. But on my terms."
Shalene didn't react immediately, so Damien took that as permission. His strong hand moved down, touching her hip, then pulling her closer until there were no space between them. Their chests were almost touching. Her hardened nipples pressed against her thin shirt, Damien could feel them.
Damien growled. His voice hoarse and yearning. "Say yes, or I'll stop now."
Shalene's jaw opened, about to speak. However, the motel door was suddenly knocked loudly. A deep, angry baritone voice echoed from outside, making her eyes widen in disbelief.
She knew who it was. She couldn't have heard wrong.