Chapter 900: His Desire

The two stood silently in the romantic, stunning room. Candlelight flickered, the scent of flowers filling the air. Susan's adorable face was mirrored in Manuel's eyes, which traveled from her bright red dress and alluring lips to the snow-white skin exposed to the evening air. Everything about Susan ignited his sensual imagination.

"I'm… I'm afraid I can't…" Manuel began, his voice husky.

Susan's eyes reddened. Was he reluctant to offer a kind word? How could he be so cruel? Frustration welled within her. Biting her lip, she almost left; the evening felt ruined, and she needed time to compose herself.

She knew there was no relationship between Manuel and Clara; she didn't need an explanation. Her outburst was an attempt to urge him to care more. And she knew, too, that if he didn't care, he wouldn't have returned so quickly. Despite understanding this, she'd lost her temper. She knew he wasn't adept at sweet words. Now, she questioned why she'd pushed him to change. Guilt and anger simmered within her. She decided to distance herself.

She took a step, but her arm was caught. Manuel pulled her back. Startled, she stumbled into him. The heat of his hand felt like a burn. She thought he might have a fever.

Looking closely, she saw his furious blush and rapid breathing.

"Not feeling well?" she asked, agitated. His health was paramount. Remembering his hospital bed, she abandoned her efforts to make him please her. She reached to touch his forehead, intending to take him to the hospital if he had a fever, as he'd only recently recovered from surgery.

As her hand neared, however, she was pressed against the wall with brute force. Before she could react, his kiss landed on her lips.

"Hmm!" Susan gasped, startled. What was he doing? What possessed him? This lustful man felt alien to her.

"Hmm!" she murmured, tense as he moved against her. His kisses threatened to smother her. Just as she felt she couldn't breathe, he released her lips, though his arms remained tight. She felt his body still moving against hers.

"Manuel, don't scare me!" she cried, hugging him tightly, frightened by this unfamiliar version of him.

"Don't you want to sleep with me?" he whispered in her ear, his short gasps sending goosebumps across her skin. Was he tempting her? She'd always imagined him passive, allowing her to dominate.

"Ah!" she cried out as he bit her. His sudden aggression felt predatory. Moments before, they'd been arguing; the change was too swift.

"Can we have dinner first?" she asked, her voice trembling, as his kisses rained down upon her. She needed to distract him, to calm herself.

He paused, but didn't release her. Her heart pounded wildly. "I've been preparing dinner all evening, and the wine has breathed," she hastened to add, forcing herself to remain calm in the face of his dominance.

Fortunately, he stopped. Though she felt his rapid breathing and tense body, and feared her efforts were failing, he listened. He released her. Immediately she regretted her words. This erotic side of Manuel was rare, and she'd almost welcomed his intensity. He'd been less frenzied under the influence of the philter.

She gasped, "Come on, let's eat… Ah!"

He scooped her up. Before she could pull down her light dress, she was immobile in his arms. She was surprised by both his sudden movement and his strength. She'd thought him a frail patient, breathless after climbing stairs. How could he carry her so steadily?

Her arms instinctively wrapped around his neck. He carried her to the dining table. Instead of seating her, he placed her on the table itself, amidst plates, flowers, candles, and red wine. He swept things to the floor, the shattering glass adding to the charged atmosphere.

The sound heightened their arousal. Her heart raced anew. In the dim light, she saw the undeniable fire of desire in his eyes.

She nibbled her lip, sensing danger.

"Shall we… shall we have dinner first?" she asked as he approached.

"I'm about to begin," he said, a wicked smile playing on his lips.

She couldn't look away, unable to resist.

"Has the red wine been awake long?" he asked.

"My voice has exploded," she thought.

She nodded. It seemed his only response was to her nods.

"The wine has breathed enough?" he murmured, his voice erotic.

She nodded, dazed; it was all she could manage.

"I've been waiting a long time," he muttered.

Watching him nervously, she wondered what he would do next, if the excitement would cause her to faint. Then, she saw him pick up the decanter and slowly pour the red wine onto her body. The contrast of the cool liquid on her heated skin was intensely sensual.

He must have practiced, she thought; his skill was remarkable.