In the concealed compartment, an ambiguous atmosphere silently spread.
Sang Lu's heartbeat stuttered.
Instinctively, she pressed her palm against the chest of the man before her.
The moment her hand touched his firm torso, her fingers trembled slightly.
Feng Yan's crisp, refreshing scent enveloped her completely.
His kiss was restrained, measured.
Slow and deliberate, brushing against her lips.
Cool and soft.
A light, teasing taste.
Sang Lu's eyes widened in surprise.
She hadn't even processed what was happening.
How had things suddenly… come to this?
Feng Yan pulled back slightly, putting a small distance between them, his voice low:
"Close your eyes."
Sang Lu froze. "…"
His tone was so matter-of-fact that before she realized it, she had already obeyed, her eyelids fluttering shut.
The next second, his cool lips met hers again.
The air grew thick with tension.
The tips of Sang Lu's ears burned red.
Her mind went blank.
He cupped her chin, his lips grazing hers repeatedly, lightly.
As if testing.
Or toying.
Her heart felt like it was being gently stroked, her pulse quickening with each touch.
The sensation hovered on the edge of overwhelming.
Her eyes remained closed, lashes trembling with every brush of his lips.
She had no idea where he would land next.
Then—
Her lower lip was softly sucked.
Sang Lu's heart skipped a beat, and she instinctively jerked backward.
A large hand settled at the nape of her neck.
Feng Yan's palm was slightly cool, the chill sending a shiver through her.
His calloused fingers tightened around her neck, stroking gently.
A silent reassurance—telling her not to tense up.
But how could she not?
Feng Yan was kissing her!
Out of nowhere!
And yet…
Feng Yan was kissing her.
Her lawful husband, kissing her.
There was nothing she could reasonably object to.
To anyone else, it would seem perfectly natural.
Sang Lu felt like her heart might burst from her chest.
Her senses were flooded with Feng Yan's crisp, clean scent.
Overwhelmed, she clutched at the only thing within reach—
The fabric of his shirt, crumpling under her grip.
To him, the gesture seemed like encouragement.
The next moment—
Her lips parted under his.
His intent was unmistakable.
No time for hesitation.
She could only tilt her head back and surrender.
……
In another car.
Lu Sheng continued, "His business style could be described as… ruthless, highly aggressive. Once he sets his sights on something, he won’t tolerate any obstacles."
"In some ways, a person’s approach in the business world reflects their character."
Xiaomei frowned. "Then his rivals—and the companies he targets—must be in a tough spot?"
Lu Sheng shrugged. "Pretty much."
Xiaomei tilted her head, thoughtful. "But earlier, President Feng didn’t seem like that at all. He spoke so gently to Sang Lu. Cold on the surface, sure, but not exactly ruthless."
"Is that so…" Lu Sheng replied flatly.
He didn’t share her view.
A mere few seconds of eye contact with Feng Yan had left him unsettled.
Even now, the chill lingered.
It reminded him of why his economics professor had described Feng Yan with words like domineering, merciless, and unyielding.
……
The rain grew heavier.
The downpour cooled the air, a biting wind sweeping through.
Yet inside the black sedan cutting through the storm, the temperature climbed steadily.
Raindrops drummed against the windows, the sound amplified in the quiet.
Sang Lu’s entire body trembled, her palm pressed to Feng Yan’s chest, feeling the heavy thud of his heartbeat.
She couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment she began responding.
No longer just enduring—
Now meeting him.
His masculine scent, mingling with the crisp air, overwhelmed her senses.
His hand remained tangled in her hair, pulling her closer.
Her fingers clenched tighter in his wrinkled shirt.
The expensive fabric was hopelessly crumpled now.
Feng Yan seemed unfamiliar with the concept of restraint.
Once he claimed territory, he gave no quarter—only pressed forward, demanding more.
Deeper, harder kisses fell in waves.
Lips moving in tandem, breaths merging.
Outside, the sudden storm raged.
But inside this sheltered space, Sang Lu yielded to his unmistakable brand of possession.
The only sound was their ragged breathing.
In the dim light, indulgence reigned unchecked.
Her last shreds of rationality dissolved.
At some point, her arm slid around his neck.
His Adam’s apple bobbed sharply.
……
Xiaomei still seemed puzzled. "From how you describe him, President Feng sounds like someone with zero patience?"
Lu Sheng sighed. "Just repeating what my professor said. No idea if it’s accurate."
"Well, I guess only Sang Lu knows the real him," Xiaomei mused, glancing out the window. "The rain’s getting worse."
……
Sang Lu’s heart had never pounded this hard.
The hand at the back of her head tightened, tilting her face up for a deeper kiss.
Her lips were devoured, nipped, sucked.
Her cheeks burned; she didn’t dare open her eyes.
She felt utterly ravished.
One of his hands rested at her waist, fingers lightly tracing.
Even through the fabric, his touch seared.
Dizziness washed over her.
Just as she teetered on the edge—
He pulled back slightly.
Their noses brushed.
His thumb stroked her nape.
"Breathe."
His voice was rough.
A reminder—not a request.
No patience, only command.
Before she could fully catch her breath—
His lips found hers again.
Her spine stiffened, her rhythm entirely his to control.
No retreat permitted.
Feng Yan channeled his restless jealousy into every movement.
If before had been cautious, uncertain—
Now, there was no mistaking the hunger.
As if he wanted to consume her whole.
Claim every thought.
Leave no room for anything but him.
……
