Love On Ice: Don’t Leave Me, My Charming Liar

Chapter 19: Tears spilled down her cheeks, hot and uncontrollable. What did she ever do to deserve this? She didn't want to be the other woman; she wanted to end this improper relationship. Was that wrong? "Why are you doing this to me?" she cried. "Just to punish me? Do you even understand what I've been through?" She gritted her teeth, glaring at him through the tears. "You're a bastard, Ethan. A complete bastard!" Nyla's tears slipped onto Ethan's hand. He glanced at them, then calmly withdrew, his expression unreadable.

His gaze lingered on Nyla's swollen face and tear-reddened eyes, and for a fleeting moment, something like resignation crossed his features. "Move back to Cloudscape Mansion," he said, his tone low but firm. "Stop this tantrum. I'll handle it. The Fowler family won't dare bother you again." Nyla lowered her gaze, appearing to lean into his chest, yet her lips curled in mockery. "Tantrum?" she repeated softly. "Ethan, I've told you already-if you want me by your side, marry me." She tilted her head up, their faces so close her breath brushed his skin.

Despite the glimmer of tears, her expression was unyielding, defiant. "If not, don't stop me from finding someone else." Her words were like a spark to dry kindling, and Ethan's composure snapped. His lips crashed against hers in a searing kiss. Nyla fought back, shoving at his chest, but he tightened his grip around her waist, refusing to let go. With no other choice, she bit him hard enough to draw blood. The metallic taste filled her mouth, yet Ethan didn't relent.

Read exclusive stories at gαℓησνℓs․cøm His persistence left them locked in a volatile, almost destructive embrace-two forces pulling and pushing, painfully intertwined. Nyla's resistance wavered as fear and longing coiled in her chest. She hated admitting it, even to herself, but only Ethan had the power to quiet the shadows that haunted her. And that truth terrified her more than anything. The cramped space of the car closed in around them. Nyla found herself seated on Ethan's lap, her cheeks flushed and her body trembling under his touch.

His hand grazed her cheek, brushing over the faint finger marks left behind. Only in moments like this did he show any gentleness. "Not... not here," she stammered, wincing at the soreness in her body. She was too raw from the day's events, her nerves too fraught to relax. Ethan sensed her resistance. He pulled back his hand, held her waist, and slowly entered her. A tingling sensation spread through her limbs, making her gasp, her body going limp against Ethan. "Nyla," he murmured, his voice low and dangerous, "who else do you think can satisfy you? Do you think I'm dead?

Tell me-who else do you want?" He thrust his body, and she gasped, her head tipping back, tears streaming from her eyes. Words failed her as Ethan's grip tightened. But her silence wasn't an option-he would demand an answer, one way or another. . . .