The Year I Was the Other Woman To Myself novel Chapter 167

“Mmph…”

Before Penelope could process his words, his mouth was on hers, and it wasn’t a kiss—it was a bite.

A sharp pain shot through her lower lip, and she instinctively tried to push him away, but he captured her hands, pinning them above her head.

“Theodore… hss…”

He seemed to have lost all control, stealing her breath, tearing at her clothes, and molding her body against his as if he intended to melt them together.

“Don’t do this… honey…” Penelope whimpered, her voice soft and pleading.

That single word, ‘honey,’ seemed to snap him partially back to his senses.

“I’m sorry… hoo…” He took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to regain control. His movements softened as he kissed her again. “Shh, don’t cry. I won’t hurt you.”

Feeling wronged, Penelope bit his lower lip hard in retaliation.

Instead of deterring him, the act seemed to reignite his fervor. His breath hitched, and he captured her mouth in another deep kiss. At the same time, his strong, lean hands gripped her waist and lifted her off the ground.

Her feet left the floor, and she instinctively wrapped her arms around his neck, clinging to him. With no support beneath her, she was completely dependent on him, but his broad, solid shoulders gave her a sense of security.

He tried to be gentle, tried to be mindful of her feelings.

“Baby… hold on tight…”

“But… I’ve been drinking that bitter medicine for twenty-five days…” The thought brought fresh tears to her eyes. Twenty-five long days.

“Don’t cry… When you cry, I can’t… I can’t hold back…”

“I’m not crying… sob… I’m not!”

From the entryway to the living room, to the bedroom, to the bathroom, and back to the bedroom again, Penelope was reduced to a pliant, trembling mess. The fire inside her had been kindled, and now it raged, consuming her.

She felt like she was being burned alive, desperate for the man on top of her to extinguish the flames. But he was on fire too, still fighting for control, teetering on the edge of losing it completely…

“Honey… I don’t care about the medicine anymore… I want you…”

While battling his own demons, Theodore tried to soothe her. “Shh, I’m here.”

“I want you…”

“Hmph!” She punched his chest lightly.

“Still feeling it? Should we…”

“No!”

“Are you sure?”

Theodore rolled over, pinning her beneath him. His damp hair cast shadows across his face, making him look devilishly handsome, almost wicked.

Penelope swallowed hard. “You said Mr. Olson told me to take the medicine for three months… but maybe twenty days is enough? Or maybe he was just exaggerating when he said no physical intimacy? Doctors do that, right? Maybe it’s totally fine? Or…”

“That desperate?”

“I’m worried about you!”

“Wipe your drool first.”

Obediently, she slurped a few times, then looked up at him with hopeful eyes.