Pei Huaijin’s kiss was gentle, unlike what Shen Qingyu had imagined.
She had thought it would be urgent, possessive, like in the movies. But it wasn’t. He kissed slowly, tenderly, as if confirming something or waiting for her to change her mind.
Shen Qingyu’s heart raced so fast it felt like it might leap out of her throat, but she didn’t regret it. Closing her eyes, she could clearly feel every texture of his lips.
So this is what kissing feels like—she had never known.
Twenty-six years old, and she had never been in love, never known what kissing felt like.
But now she knew. It was a tingling sensation that spread from her nerve endings to every part of her body, like tiny electric currents darting beneath her skin, leaving her whole body soft and weak.
It’s actually quite nice, she thought quietly to herself. No wonder couples love kissing so much. So this is what it feels like—that indescribable, elusive feeling that makes you want to close your eyes, lean in closer, and never let the moment end.
Pei Huaijin realized his heart was beating much faster than he had expected, which struck him as absurd.
When facing multi-billion-dollar contracts at the negotiation table, his heartbeat remained steady. When confronted with questioning from over a dozen shareholders at board meetings, his expression never changed. When women threw themselves at him during social events, he wouldn’t even lift an eyelid. He had thought his heart would never race for anything again.
But at this moment, his heartbeat was unbearably fast.
He had never kissed anyone before. He had never met a woman he wanted to kiss. Those who offered themselves, who clung to him—he couldn’t even be bothered to look at them, let alone press his lips to theirs.
But tonight, he didn’t know what had come over him.
Her lips were softer and sweeter than he had imagined, and kissing her felt incredibly comfortable.
He wanted to deepen the kiss. His body screamed at him to make it more intense, to show her what a real kiss was like. His desire had ignited, starting from his lips and burning all the way down, tightening his abdomen and making the veins at his temples throb.
But he held back, afraid of scaring her.
She had said it was her first time—not just for that, but he could tell from her reaction that even kissing was new to her. Her lips didn’t know how to respond, her breathing was unsteady, and her hands didn’t know where to rest. She was like a blank sheet of paper, untouched and unmarked.
He didn’t want to scribble all over it.
But he was holding back.
His fingers tangled in her hair, his knuckles tightening slightly. His breathing was heavier than usual, but he controlled it, careful not to let his breath fall too heavily on her face. His body was taut like a fully drawn bow, every muscle straining, but he held himself up, resisting the urge to press down on her.
He wanted to kiss her for a long time.
The thought startled even him. He had never been one to crave anything. But at this moment, he just wanted to kiss her for a long, long time, to stretch this moment out until the kiss would never end.
Then his phone rang.
The abrupt ringtone shattered the quiet of the room, startling Shen Qingyu, who instinctively flinched backward.
Pei Huaijin froze and stopped.
Shen Qingyu stared into those eyes so close to her own, her mind completely blank. He was looking at her too, those indifferent eyes finally holding something else—desire.
Pei Huaijin straightened up, reaching toward the phone on the bedside table that was disturbing them.
He picked it up and glanced at the caller ID—it was the driver, Old Zhou. He answered, his voice cool and detached. “No need to wait. Go back. I’ll call you tomorrow morning to pick me up.”
There was a brief silence on the other end.
“Understood, Mr. Pei.”
The call ended.
Outside the hotel entrance, Old Zhou put away his phone, staring at the hotel doors for a long moment before suddenly smiling.
“Mr. Pei,” he muttered to himself, starting the car. “You’ve finally come around.”
He had been driving for Pei Huaijin for three years.
In those three years, he had seen Pei Huaijin finish business dinners at two in the morning and still insist on being driven home alone. He had seen him reject woman after woman thrown his way—some sent by business partners, some the daughters of associates, some starlets and models who threw themselves at him. All kinds.
But Pei Huaijin never gave them a second glance.
Once, at a dinner, a boss insisted on pushing a girl toward Pei Huaijin, saying, “Men have needs, it’s normal.” Pei Huaijin didn’t say a word at the time, just put down his chopsticks and gave the man a look.
Later, that boss’s contract fell through.
Old Zhou had always thought that someone like Pei Huaijin probably just didn’t need women.
But that phone call just now…
The car slowly pulled away from the hotel entrance, merging into the late-night traffic of San Francisco.
Old Zhou glanced in the rearview mirror at the hotel building growing more distant, feeling inexplicably pleased.
He had caught a glimpse of the girl—drunk, but quite pretty, with a gentle appearance and dressed decently. She didn’t seem like the messy type.
Hopefully, she was a good girl.
Inside the hotel room, Pei Huaijin set down the phone. He couldn’t hold back any longer.
He leaned down and kissed her again.
This time, it wasn’t gentle at all.
She didn’t know how to breathe properly and soon began gasping for air, pushing lightly against him. He loosened his hold slightly, allowing Shen Qingyu to take a deep breath before kissing her again.
He didn’t know how long they kissed before he finally released her.
She lay on the bed, panting, her eyes watery, lips red, looking up at him.
He hovered above her, watching her.
“What did you say downstairs earlier?” he asked, his voice low.
Shen Qingyu’s mind was still hazy. “What?”
“You said I—” he paused, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly, “wasn’t up to it?”
Shen Qingyu’s face flushed bright red.
She tried to say something, but he lowered his head again, kissing her neck.
His lips were hot against her skin, sending shivers through her. Then, he reached to untie the belt of her bathrobe.
Instinctively, she tried to stop him, but he pressed her wrist down.
“Don’t move,” he said, his voice hoarse and strained.
She stopped moving.
He kissed her fiercely, as if he wanted to devour her whole. Her hands clutched the bedsheet beneath her, knuckles turning white, her breathing growing increasingly ragged.
After what felt like an eternity, he lifted his head to look at her.
She lay there, eyes watery, face flushed deeply, her lips bitten pale by her own teeth.
He reached out, pressing his thumb against her lips, gently freeing her lower lip from her bite.
“No need to hold back,” he said, his voice low. “It’s just you and me here.”
Then he straightened up and removed the towel.
Shen Qingyu’s gaze drifted downward slightly before quickly darting away, her heart pounding so hard it felt like it might burst.
He leaned down, one hand braced beside her head, while the other gently wrapped around her neck. He was so close that her breath mingled with his.
“Look at me.”
She lifted her eyes to meet his, and they were filled with desire.
“Tell me if it hurts,” he said.
She nodded softly.
Then—
She gasped.
It hurt so much.
Her nails dug into his skin.
He stopped.
“Hurting?” he asked, his voice hoarse and strained, a fine sheen of sweat beading on his forehead.
She looked at him, her eyes reddening, and nodded.
He watched her, silent for a moment.
Then he kissed her, the kiss easing some of her pain.
After that, he moved slowly, gently, careful not to hurt her.
She didn’t know how much time had passed, only that the pain gradually faded, replaced by another sensation rising within her.
It was unfamiliar, but not unpleasant.
She began responding to him unconsciously, her fingers sliding from his arms to his back, tracing the line of his spine and leaving faint red marks.
Her breathing grew ragged.
Then a burst of white light exploded behind her eyes.
She couldn’t hold back the sounds that escaped her, sounds that made her flush with shame. Her fingers clutched desperately at his back, nails digging into his skin, tears streaming down her face.
He kissed her tears away.
Then he pulled her into his embrace and continued.
Shen Qingyu thought hazily, why was he starting again, and so…
She had lost count of how many times it had been. Shen Qingyu was utterly exhausted.
“Stop… I can’t anymore…”
“It’s too late to stop now,” Pei Huaijin murmured softly in her ear.
“Be good, one more time…”
In her dazed state, she felt him turn her over, wrap his arms around her from behind, and bite her earlobe, urging her to be good.
And in that final moment, he held her so tightly it felt as though he wanted to press her into his very bones.
Much later, Shen Qingyu stirred awake in a haze.
The room was dark. She lay in his arms, her face pressed against his chest, listening to the steady, deep rhythm of his heartbeat.
His hand still rested on her waist.
She lifted her head, wanting to see his face.
But it was too dark to make out anything clearly—only the vague outline of deep-set eyes, a high, straight nose, and a sharp jawline.
She stared at that blurred face for a while, until her eyelids grew heavy, and she drifted back to sleep.