Rosaria pinched the edge of the plain handkerchief with her fingertips, the fine texture brushing against her palm.
“Don’t do this next time.”
She finally looked up, her voice flat, yet somehow carrying an elusive, indescribable lilt.
“It’s a bit messy…”
As the words fell, she casually tossed the used handkerchief onto the nearby stone steps.
The white fabric settled into the dark grey crevices of the stone, almost as if she were deliberately doing it for Soren’s benefit.
Soren’s Adam’s apple bobbed, his already burning ears flushing even hotter.
He instinctively averted his gaze, not daring to look at Rosaria’s half-smiling eyes again, his voice dropping by half.
“You were the one who did this to me first.”
Before he could finish, his collar was suddenly gripped firmly.
The force wasn’t immense, but it was enough to pull him forward, forcing him to meet Rosaria’s gaze once more.
She narrowed her eyes, arching an eyebrow.
The playfulness that had been hidden in her eyes faded a bit, replaced by a touch of feigned displeasure and seriousness.
“What?
Dissatisfied with me already?
You weren’t like this just now.”
Rosaria kept her grip on his collar.
Her movement wasn’t heavy, even carrying a trace of a faint, almost imperceptible caress, but the touch against his body made Soren’s spine stiffen instantly, his breathing slowing by half a beat.
In the next second, she leaned down, deliberately drawing close to his face.
“Or rather…”
Her voice sank even lower, like a feather scratching at his heart, her tone carrying an unmistakable, provocative lilt at the very end.
“Deliberately trying to provoke me?”
He opened his mouth, but his throat felt as though it were blocked.
For a long time, he could only squeeze out tiny, breathy gasps.
His panicked gaze tried to dart aside, but he was pulled back by Rosaria’s hand gripping his collar, forcing him to look directly into the amusement in her eyes.
“I…
I didn’t.”
His voice trembled, the tips of his ears so red they looked ready to bleed, even his breath carrying a shaky heat.
Watching his embarrassed state, the playfulness in Rosaria’s eyes deepened even further.
The hand resting over his lower abdomen pressed down; not hard, but rubbing in a gentle, soothing circle, the touch of her fingertips brushing through the fabric feeling exceptionally clear.
She drew even closer, her warm breath almost enveloping Soren’s lips, her voice dropping incredibly low and soft, yet carrying an undeniable sense of demand.
“No?
But why does it look to me like…
you’re quite looking forward to it?”
These words were like a tiny thorn, pricking Soren’s heart, leaving him both flushed and anxious.
He instinctively wanted to back away, but with his collar held fast, there was no way to retreat.
He could smell the faint, cold fragrance on Rosaria, mixed with the warmth of her breath, clouding his mind so much that he couldn’t even organize a retort.
He could only bite his lower lip and turn his face away, though his ears flushed even redder.
Seeing him like this, Rosaria let out a low chuckle, her voice filled with triumphant pleasure.
She released her grip on his collar but did not back away; instead, she raised her hand, her fingertips brushing over Soren’s flushed ears, the touch warm and soft.
“Not speaking?
Then I’ll just take it as your silent consent.”
The fingertips brushing his ears suddenly halted.
The amusement in Rosaria’s eyes receded like a tide, leaving only a bottomless darkness.
Her thumb and forefinger pinched Soren’s ear, the force not heavy, yet carrying a restraint that allowed no escape, even her breath catching a touch of coldness.
“You’ve consented, haven’t you?”
Soren’s heart was seized by the suddenly freezing atmosphere, the words he was about to speak catching in his throat.
He could see his own panicked reflection in Rosaria’s pupils, a reflection that was slowly being enveloped by the obsession in her eyes, leaving no room for struggle.
“Actually, you don’t need to hide.”
She suddenly smiled, but the warmth did not reach her eyes.
It was like a sugar-coated needle, gently pricking Soren’s heart.
Her fingertips pressed lightly against his chest through his clothes, clearly feeling the frantic thumping of his heart.
“Your heart is telling me that you like this.”
“Even if you don’t like it, it doesn’t matter.”
Her fingers exerted a bit of force, pinching his ear tighter.
“I will make you like it.
After all, you can only be like this with me, and you can only let me touch you, right?”
Soren wanted to shake his head, but his neck was pinned by her other hand, preventing him from backing away even a fraction of an inch.
Looking at the panic in his eyes, the curve of Rosaria’s lips deepened.
Her tone was as gentle as though she were coaxing a child, yet carried an unquestionable possessiveness.
“If you dare let anyone else touch you…”
She paused.
“I will make sure to ‘clean’ all the places they touched thoroughly.”
…