Do you prefer a passionate and wild kiss, or a gentle kiss that stops just at the right moment? Leave a comment and let me know!
Lyla was so stunned that she could barely think.She remained silent, watching as Carlo followed her into the apartment building, stepped into the same elevator, and exited on the same floor, walking straight to the room across from hers.That room, until today, had belonged to a senior student majoring in physics."It did cost me some money," Carlo said casually, inserting a key into the door. "But college students are easy to deal with.""Is that so?" Lyla shot him a withering glance as she pulled her own key from her bag.But Carlo was struggling with his key. It got stuck in the lock, and no matter how hard he twisted, it wouldn't budge. In frustration, he twisted harder—until the key snapped in half.“Damn it!” He cursed, throwing the broken key to the floor.Now it was Lyla's turn to smirk triumphantly. She unlocked her door but didn’t go inside just yet. This was the moment she'd been waiting for. With a smug look, she said, "I guess that easy-going student didn’t tell you the
Outside, the black Mercedes was parked right where Lyla had noticed it earlier when she sat down. Compared to the sleek silver Aston Martin, this car seemed far more discreet—so low-key that when she first saw it last night, she never would have connected it to the flamboyant, arrogant Carlo.“That car?” Carlo’s eyes remained fixed on the spinning washing machine drum as he shrugged casually. “It burned.”“You’re talking nonsense again!” Lyla muttered under her breath, flipping the pages of her book with exaggerated force.Carlo didn’t respond. His eyes were still on the rotating drum, but the mechanical hum of the machine seemed to morph in his mind into the crackling sound of flames and the thunderous roar of an explosion.In his memory, the scene from that night replayed vividly. When he received that message behind the curtain, he had rushed home to gather his belongings. In his haste, he didn’t bother parking in the underground garage but left the car right outside his luxury apa
Carlo wasn’t lying.When Lyla arrived at the university and checked the student system, she received a notification confirming Carlo’s enrollment in the graduate program. She knew there was no escaping him now.In the first class that morning, Lyla spotted Carlo the moment she stepped into the lecture hall. He was dressed in a gray hoodie, loose sweatpants, and sneakers, his usual clean-shaven look making him appear several years younger, blending in effortlessly with the other students around him.A few stylish girls were gathered around him, chatting and laughing. When Lyla entered, Carlo raised a hand to wave at her. "Hi, Professor Sinclair, I was just telling them about your impressive research in BDSM psychology. Do you think we could be lucky enough to learn some of that here?"The girls around him either looked intrigued or slightly flustered, with a few retreating back to their seats, blushing.Lyla felt her face flush slightly. Ever since that scandal three years ago, she ha
Carlo certainly wasn’t willing to back down. He followed Lyla all the way to her office. It was lunchtime, and the entire floor was almost empty. Just as they reached her office, they ran into Dr. Riffe.Dr. Riffe was one of the committee members evaluating Lyla's application for the assistant professor position. Although he was the least experienced member, he was also the hardest to please.Lyla had already gained the approval of the other four committee members, thanks to her outstanding research and teaching performance. She thought her application was secure, but Dr. Riffe kept nitpicking and repeatedly asking for additional documentation, leaving her exhausted.Today was the day the committee was supposed to give their final decision, and Lyla knew she couldn't afford to upset him. Sighing, she tugged on Carlo's sleeve and whispered in a pleading voice, "This man, Dr. Riffe, is really important to me. Please, I beg you, don't cause any trouble."Carlo stuffed his hands into his
"Ms. Sinclair!" Dr. Riffe roared, slamming his hands on the desk as he stood up, his voice trembling with both anger and fear. "You have no proof. This is slander! I will ruin you! Not just here, but in the entire academic world!"Despite his loud voice, the quiver in his tone betrayed his insecurity. Lyla wasn’t intimidated. She smirked, taking two steps back. "How do you know I don't have evidence? Let's wait and see." With those words, she turned to leave.Dr. Riffe panicked. He rushed out from behind his desk, shouting, "Lyla, don’t think I don’t know about your past. I did your background check. You think I don’t know why you quit your PhD?"Lyla froze in her tracks. Hearing him mention her past, memories came flooding back like daggers stabbing her from behind. She clenched her fists, paralyzed in place.Sensing her weakness, Dr. Riffe's voice turned smug. "Got you, didn’t I? Lyla Sinclair, rumors about you engaging in inappropriate sexual relations with a subject to get your exp
After Dr. Riffe stormed out, the office was plunged into an eerie silence, broken only by Lyla's quickened breaths as fear and tension consumed her. She looked at Carlo, who was still staring coldly at the door, his expression darker and more menacing than it had been three years ago when he'd faced Jessica. That chilling, unfamiliar look unsettled her deeply.Moments later, a soft "drip" echoed in the room. A drop of blood fell from Carlo’s hand, hitting the floor with a quiet splash. Lyla followed his gaze and saw his hand, the same one that had punched the wall, now bleeding. A deep cut stretched across his knuckles, the edge of the wall having sliced into his skin, and blood slowly seeped from the wound.Lyla sighed softly. She walked over and gently took his hand, examining it. "Come to my office," she said. "I'll find some bandages."Unexpectedly, Carlo yanked his hand away. “What happened three years ago?” His eyes were cold and sharp as he demanded, "What scandal was he talkin
Hudson didn't report back to his master as quickly as Carlo had hoped.His call didn’t come until the evening. Though gathering the information took some time, it wasn’t beyond Hudson's capabilities. The real delay came from the sheer weight of the revelation. He had to carefully consider how to deliver the news to his young master.When Hudson finally called, Carlo was in a secluded spot on campus, in a small grove of trees. Empty beer cans littered the ground near a paper bag, and in his hand, he held a belt, repeatedly lashing it against a tree trunk to vent his pent-up rage.He had been doing this for who knows how long. The thick tree trunk was scarred, with a large section almost entirely stripped of bark, exposing pale wood beneath. His unbandaged hand had long since reopened the wound from earlier, the jagged tear in his knuckles dripping dark, congealed blood.Carlo didn’t stop his frenzied assault until the Hermès belt in his hand finally gave way, snapping under the pressur
After parking the car, Carlo practically sprinted to Lyla’s apartment.“Lyli, open the door. I need to talk to you,” he called, knocking on the door. But there was no response. He waited for a few minutes, and still, nothing.“Lyla, open the door. I know you’re home!” His knocking turned into frantic pounding. With both hands pressed against the door, Carlo hung his head, unable to suppress the whirlwind of emotions churning inside him—anger, sorrow, pity, and an unbearable heartache.It was only after learning the truth that Carlo began to understand Lyla’s unusual behavior. Her coldness, her tears, and her emotional outbursts—all stemmed from a wound that cut her to the bone. She had once been so proud, passionate, and brave—all the qualities that had drawn Carlo to her. But now, those same qualities, along with her dreams, had been trampled on.His heart ached with an overwhelming desire to hold her, to wrap her in his arms and kiss her fiercely. Even if she hit or kicked him, he wo