The Year I Was the Other Woman To Myself novel Chapter 261

Penelope bit her lip. His heart was something she didn't dare to claim.

Seeing her silence, Theodore lowered his head and bit her lip, hard.

"If you want it, it's yours."

Penelope started crying again, this time out of fear.

Theodore’s gaze hardened, refusing to let her go.

"You know what I want to hear."

"Don't run from it. Say it."

"Penelope, this is your only chance."

She just cried, refusing to speak. When Theodore's pressure became too much, she buried her face in his chest, hiding like a coward.

As if to punish her, Theodore tugged her clothes open. His large hand wrapped around her waist, forcing her body against his.

A fire ignited where they touched, quickly spreading like a wildfire that could not be contained.

His lips traveled down from hers, marking every inch of her skin as his own. It was a forceful conquest, a possession, and he dragged her with him into the inferno.

Her sobs grew more frantic. She craved him yet pushed him away.

"Darling..."

"I'm right here."

"It hurts..."

"Me too."

"I..."

"Say it."

Penelope felt like she was being burned to ash, but a sliver of reason remained. She wouldn't give in, wouldn't compromise, wouldn't be the first to yield.

She wrapped her arms around him, cooperating obediently as he took her, but when he demanded she say the words, she just shook her head, tears streaming down her face.

In the end, it was Theodore who surrendered first. He sighed, gently wiping the tears from her cheeks.

"You want me to say it first, don't you?"

She just shook her head. She didn't know.

Theodore got up, lifting her into his arms and carrying her to the bathroom. He wet a towel and gently wiped away the tear stains that smeared her face, but she couldn't stop crying, and he could never seem to wipe them all away.

She bit her lip, looking at him with a glimmer of hope.

A corner of his mouth lifted into a smirk, and he shrugged with feigned regret.

Theodore’s confession was so intense that Penelope felt as if her body had burned away, leaving only a wisp of a soul, floating and dizzy.

"But... I'm not that good."

"I wouldn't fall in love with a perfect work of art. I would only fall in love with you," he said.

Penelope still felt a pang of insecurity. "But you're so perfect."

"I'm this perfect, and you don't want me?"

"I'm afraid I'm not worthy."

Theodore took a step back and then knelt on one knee. He held out a hand, his eyes pleading with her.

"Ms. Laurier, I swear to faithfully fulfill the duties of a husband—to love you, protect you, and respect you. My body and soul belong to you alone. I offer my entire life to you. I'm begging you, please accept me."

This wasn't a marriage proposal; it was a vow of devotion. If she accepted, she would have all of him.

It was impossible for Penelope not to be moved. She placed her hand in his.

"I accept."

Theodore surged to his feet, overcome with emotion, and moved to embrace her, but Penelope held up her hands to stop him.

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