Chapter 173

The kiss took Cynthia completely by surprise, leaving her mind blank. Jonathan's lips were on hers with an urgency that felt like a storm sweeping through an unprepared town. His kissing was extraordinary—sometimes commanding, sometimes tender, sending her reeling between bliss and desperation. Instantly, Cynthia felt all strength drain from her limbs.

Her breath hitched, her thoughts clouded by lack of oxygen, leaving her limp in his grasp. It was a familiar sensation, only more intense.

His hand traced the curves of her waist, then moved up her back. The smoothness of her skin seemed to excite him, teasing his nerves and making him crave more. Kissing wasn't enough. His lips moved to the nape of her neck. He effortlessly lifted her, her legs parting in the water.

Her feet left the pool floor, and the water's buoyancy made her feel unsteady. Almost instinctively, her legs wrapped around his waist. In one swift motion, he lifted her again, her back pressed against the cool stone.

The chill seeped through her back, snapping Cynthia out of her daze. She thought, "Oh dear, what are we doing?" She couldn't believe she hadn't pushed him away.

"Damn it! This man is a sorcerer, casting spells on women," she muttered. She had to admit she'd fallen for it completely.

But as he lifted her from the water, the night's cold breeze made her shiver. The icy stone against her back jolted her fully awake. Cynthia struggled. "Jonathan, let me go!"

Jonathan didn't move. His lips were close to her ear, his voice impossibly husky. "Let go now? That would be cruel, wouldn't you think?"

His hands continued to explore her body. His voice, a deep murmur, was like a siren's call. "Baby, I can't hold back anymore…"

With that, Jonathan grasped her wrist, pulling her underwater.

Cynthia's face flushed crimson. Disbelief was written all over her face. "Jonathan, you're being a total perv!"

A hint of a pout crossed Jonathan's face. "I can't help it."

Even though Cynthia considered herself unflappable, her face was now as red as a lobster. She knew playing innocent was one of Jonathan's tricks, but she wasn't falling for it again. With a firm push, she swam back to shore. She must have been crazy to get so entangled with him.

Just as Cynthia was about to swim away, she heard footsteps and a voice calling, "Jonathan, are you there?"

Panic surged, but she sprang into action. They couldn't be caught. Instinctively, she grabbed Jonathan and pulled them both underwater, swimming deep into the darkness.

They dove about fifteen feet before Cynthia paused. Muffled voices from the shore still reached her. "Jonathan, are you there?"

Ethan's voice echoed, calling for Jonathan. Cynthia had no idea why Ethan was there, but she needed to stay hidden. Thankfully, her dress was tucked away in a secluded spot near the stones; Ethan probably wouldn't see it.

The annoying part was that even though Ethan didn't find anyone, he didn't leave. Cynthia could see him climbing a tree on the shore to pick wild fruits. The tree was thick with leaves, branches sprawling over the water.

Cynthia had been holding her breath for nearly three minutes—near the limit for most people. Jonathan, pinned beneath her, was struggling. His face was contorted with effort, his limbs flailing.

Cynthia glanced up. Ethan was still leisurely picking fruits. At this rate, Jonathan would run out of air.

Without hesitation, Cynthia cupped the back of Jonathan's head and pressed her lips to his, sharing her breath. She was trained in breath-holding, able to stay underwater for six to seven minutes. Even so, she couldn't last forever.

Her lips were still on Jonathan's, but she kept an eye on the shore. Finally, Ethan picked a few fruits, climbed down, and left.

With Ethan gone, Cynthia wrapped an arm around Jonathan's neck and pulled them both up.

Breaking the surface, they both gasped for air. Cynthia had been underwater for a full five minutes, sharing her breath with Jonathan. She was pushing her limits.

Meanwhile, Jonathan was sprawled on the shore, looking barely conscious. Cynthia slipped out of the water and hurriedly put on her clothes.

Once dressed, she approached Jonathan. "Where'd you leave your clothes?" she asked.

With a Herculean effort, Jonathan lifted his arm and gestured weakly.

Cynthia fetched his clothes and tossed them to him. "Get dressed," she said.

Half of Jonathan's body was on the grass, the other half still in the water, unmoving. Cynthia felt a pang of concern. He'd been underwater for so long; she worried he might have passed out from lack of oxygen. Finally, she dragged him fully onto the dry land.

He had a pulse, so he wasn't dead, but his weak state, with his eyes barely open, suggested he might have passed out from lack of oxygen.

Cynthia nudged him with her toe. "Quit playing dead and get dressed," she ordered.

Jonathan's voice was barely a whisper: "I can't move. Help me get dressed…"

Cynthia frowned at his rigid body, but eventually, she helped him into his clothes.

As she fastened the last button on his shirt, Jonathan suddenly grabbed her hand and said earnestly, "Cynthia, I love you."

Cynthia's hand paused. He'd said those words before, usually during intimate moments, but this time, it felt different. His voice was calm, yet it seemed to carry a wealth of restrained emotion, a deep sense of helplessness.

Cynthia's heart ached. A wave of sadness washed over her, unexpected and unexplained.

Without a word, she finished buttoning his shirt.

Standing up, her voice steady, she said, "I'm heading back. Take it easy before you get up."

She turned to leave. "Le" (The passage cuts off here.)