Chapter 173: Hannah's Kiss
Hannah gently wiped Oscar's lips, a seemingly simple gesture. "Don't take dirty things home," she said.
Oscar readily acquiesced. A charming, though ambiguous, smile played on his lips. Janet's disapproval deepened. She knew exactly what Hannah meant by "dirty things"—from a distance, it would have looked like a kiss. She struggled to control her distress.
Following him to the bathroom, she found Oscar seemingly expecting her. Theodore wisely gave them space. Janet couldn't suppress her urge to approach him. She felt dazzling, the star of the show, certain Oscar would be captivated, just as other men were. She believed he wouldn't refuse her advance.
Love surged through her, her heart pounding as she walked toward him. She called him "Oscar," a term of endearment only those close to him used. They had known each other for years; she knew him intimately. She considered herself uniquely different, unlike Hannah. Hannah, she believed, was merely a tool for Oscar; she was not. Their relationship had spanned many years, and she refused to believe he felt nothing for her.
Taking the initiative, she tugged at his clothes, rising on tiptoe to kiss him. Their shared past offered a chance to begin again. The thought closed her eyes, intensifying her desire. But as she leaned in, his cold, harsh voice made her tremble.
"Enough," he said.
Janet froze, her face paling. Her love felt like a cruel joke. She thought she misheard; Oscar, while distant, wouldn't reject her so mercilessly. Yet, she sensed hostility in his voice, the cold cruelty of his anger. Then, he repeated coldly, "Things you do to Hannah, enough is enough!"
Was he warning her against antagonizing Hannah? She knew he was aware of her actions. He was astute, quick to notice trouble. She hadn't tried to hide anything, wanting to see his reaction to her blatant targeting of Hannah. Would he intervene on her behalf?
She'd assumed their bond was minimal, given his inaction for so many days. Perhaps their marriage was merely a façade, a "happy marriage" for public consumption. She'd guessed correctly; it was a sham. Yet, he still warned her about Hannah.
How could she accept that? How could she allow the woman who'd "stolen" her man to thrive? The words enraged her, almost shattering her composure as she had been about to kiss Oscar. Hannah's presence, and the ease with which she had seemingly taken Oscar, fueled her jealousy; he was a man who should belong to no other woman.
Janet's disapproval was extreme. She glared at Hannah, who was slowly wiping Oscar's lips. After a long pause, Hannah checked his lips again and simply said, "Okay." Then they kissed.
Hannah, standing on tiptoe, her black windbreaker concealing her figure, reached up to hug Oscar's neck before kissing him. The kiss was public, blatant. His lips were soft, like cotton candy—an unusual, yet undeniably alluring, description. It was a contrast to Charles Sawyer's kisses, which had left her untouched.
The kiss stunned everyone. Oscar was surprised, and Theodore watched intently. Who would have thought Hannah, the seemingly wooden, traditional woman, possessed such passion? Her charm wasn't in her clothes; compared to Janet's dress, her windbreaker was unremarkable. It was the kiss itself that exuded seductive power.
Theodore's observation was interrupted by Oscar's angry glare. 'Fuck! This man is possessive,' Theodore mused. He shifted his gaze to see Janet's twisted, furious expression. He also spotted Charles Sawyer nearby. Charles, despite their history, had never seen Hannah like this—charming, captivating. Perhaps, Theodore thought, a woman's allure depends on her partner. Hannah's display led him to suspect Charles was a less skilled lover than Oscar. Theodore watched Charles retreat, defeated.
Hannah broke the kiss. Initially, it was meant to be a superficial gesture, but Oscar proved susceptible. It scared her. Trying to maintain her composure, she said, "Go back." She reached for him, only to be grabbed from behind. A hand clamped down on the back of her head, and a forceful kiss claimed her lips. This kiss wasn't like cotton candy. This was a possessive, forceful kiss; Oscar was the big, bad wolf.