Chapter 106

He made an effort to keep his composure, but when her voice reached his ears, his expression shifted. His gaze, once steady, grew darker with every passing second. His grip on her chin tightened, drawing her closer. For a moment, time seemed to stand still as their eyes locked, the air thick with tension. Then, without warning, he kissed her—fierce and hungry, as though he couldn't wait any longer. The kiss was urgent, his emotions finally breaking free, pouring into the contact between them. Every time they kissed, he felt her body soften, and her breath grew more rapid. It was then that Winnie softly asked, "Mr. Marlowe... do you feel tortured?" Van replied with a question, his breath heavy, "How do you feel?" "Aren't you... that kind of person?" She hesitated, realizing she had asked something inappropriate, her tone becoming uncertain. Van furrowed his brows, a trace of strange amusement flashing in his eyes. "So what?" "So..." She bit her lip, "Every time we... like this... do you feel tortured?" Van was momentarily stunned, a helpless smile curving at his lips. "I want to see it," Winnie suddenly spoke, her voice light. "See what?" Van's voice was low, seemingly confused by her intentions. She gathered her courage, speaking softly, "I want to try and see if I can help you." His heart tightened, but his face remained calm, though the fire in his eyes nearly consumed him. Struggling to control himself, he coldly said, "Go to sleep. Don't worry about this." Winnie tilted her head, her voice soft. "Then I want to see your tattoo." "It's not worth seeing," Van murmured, his voice still calm. "Why won't you let me see it? Is it because it's ugly?" Winnie pouted, seemingly teasing him. Van frowned slightly. "It's not." "Then what is it? Is it some strange design?" Winnie pressed, curiosity piqued. "Like... words?" Van glanced at her, a smirk forming at the corner of his mouth. "No, you're overthinking it." Winnie crawled out from under the covers, starting to search through the small objects on the table. "I definitely saw it earlier..." Van raised an eyebrow. "What are you looking for?" "I found it!" she exclaimed excitedly, followed by a soft sound. "What are you doing?" Van asked coldly. Winnie laughed and shook her head. "No need to turn on the light, it's too bright. I'm afraid I'll see something you don't want me to see." The tent immediately plunged into darkness, leaving only the occasional sounds of wind and the distant growls of animals outside. Van's heart stirred slightly, but he still tried to remain calm, a faint, helpless smile appearing at the corner of his lips. "Playing with fire isn't safe." Winnie pretended to act innocent, asking, "Are you scared?" Van could only reply helplessly, "Stop messing around." Seizing the opportunity, she carefully moved closer, her fingers flicking the lighter to produce a small spark, the faint sound cutting through the stillness. The flame illuminated her slightly turned face. Van took a deep breath, reached up, and took the lighter from her hand, gently flicking it on. He calmly said, "Let me handle it." Winnie watched him silently, her heart full of anticipation. The flickering light cast shadows on their faces, but all the silence and calmness seemed to be swallowed by that faint glow in an instant. Winnie, with delicate, slender fingers like translucent stalks, pressed the line of his waist down even further, following the guidance of his thumb. They both pretended to ignore each other. They were deliberately ignoring. Ignoring the raised, firm shadow beneath the tiny script. Van had always confidently believed that he was a person of strong self-control. His ex-girlfriend Ada was a British-born Chinese woman who, more devoutly than many Europeans, adhered to Catholicism. She firmly refused any form of intimacy before marriage. This was not limited to just the final act, but included any actions that could lead to it. They had dated for two years, and Van had always respected her, never crossing any boundaries. A small newspaper in Las Vegas referred to her as "pure and flawless, perfectly ready for marriage." While this description carried a somewhat vulgar implication, it wasn't entirely unfounded. To be honest, Ada's figure might not have the same curves as Winnie's, but it was by no means inferior; she was just slimmer. That slender frame had its own unique allure, giving her a distinct charm. Van firmly believed he wasn't the kind of man who would lose control over a woman's appearance. In fact, Ada would use teasing glances or little playful gestures sometimes, hinting that he could loosen his resolve and push past some seemingly harmless boundaries. But each time, Van had firmly rejected her. It wasn't that he had a strong moral restraint, but when he looked into Winnie's eyes, he saw a temptation that made it hard to resist. Especially when she leaned in slightly, her breath brushing against his face, it sparked a sudden wave of desire within him. That desire was like a thunderbolt, uncontrollable and merciless, sweeping over him without warning. The flame from the lighter flickered weakly, producing a soft crackling sound. The small glow illuminated only a narrow space, casting a faint light on Van's abdomen. The orange glow danced across his skin, casting its reflection on Winnie's slightly lowered face, outlining her soft brows and eyes, delicate nose, and the tender curve of her lips. In that instant, her face seemed to be enveloped in a gentle, purifying warmth. The darkness in the tent was laced with a hint of cold, a chill that seemed to come from the distant, freezing plains. But what Winnie felt was the warmth of breath against her face, thick and intense. Each of her breaths seemed to be drawn by some invisible force, filled with the tension of hormones. "What's your tattoo?" Winnie swallowed lightly, asking casually, trying to mask the faint unease she felt, pretending to be calm. Her slight swallow, however, sounded like a deep provocation in Van's ears, impossible to ignore. The fabric stretched tightly, and Winnie felt a sharp pain. Van lowered his head, barely holding back an unsteady breath. "It's Ancient Greek. I'll show you tomorrow." "Does it hurt?" Winnie tilted her head back, the firelight flickering in her eyes. Van lowered his gaze slightly, his eyes deep. "It's fine." Winnie's fingers brushed over the deep black leather belt, skillfully tugging at it. She held her breath, her heart skipping a beat, and a confused light flickered in her eyes. Van released the switch on the lighter, and the tiny light flickered once before vanishing into the growing darkness. Everything fell into silence, and the surrounding space was engulfed in blackness.