The Cold Surgeon's Contract Bride novel Chapter 90

Setting Ferris's terrible temper aside, his face was undeniably top-tier among Port Capital's elite. Take this perfectly straight nose, and those incredibly deep, intense eyes—wait, why did this feel so real?

Like touching a live wire, I jerked my hand back in sheer panic, instantly snapping out of my hazy, drunken stupor.

Looking back at Ferris, I saw the man staring at me unblinkingly, his Adam's apple bobbing.

Taking a closer look, Ferris had his arms planted on either side of me, effectively caging me in against the sofa. He was so close I could faintly smell his signature woodsy cologne and feel the heat of his breath on my skin.

My heart started hammering uncontrollably against my ribs.

Even my breathing hitched and sped up.

"I... I drank too much..."

"And then?" His low, raspy voice wrapped around my ear as Ferris locked his gaze entirely on me. "You dreamt of me?"

My heart skipped a beat. I looked up nervously at the man hovering above me, only to see a dangerous, undeniable lust flickering in his dark eyes.

As our eyes locked, he leaned in closer. My nerves pulled taut like a bowstring, and my eyes fluttered shut instinctively.

It felt like a dream, yet entirely too real to be one.

In a flash, I felt a damp heat against my mouth. The man's soft lips crashed down against mine, his entire body pressing against me.

It was completely dominant and aggressive, like a predator devouring its prey. In mere seconds, Ferris had pried my lips apart, his tongue sweeping in to tangle with mine, stoking a fire that made my breathing terrifyingly heavy.

He was always a master at seduction. Within moments, it felt as if my entire body had been set ablaze, the heat spreading like a wildfire.

Ferris seemed incredibly impatient. When his hand slid up the slit of my silk gown, I could actually feel the slight calluses on his fingertips dragging against my skin. The raw, primal tension between a man and a woman erupted in that instant, and I was hit with the terrifying illusion that he was going to rip me apart and consume me whole.

Through his rough, unyielding grip, I could sense his absolute need for possession and dominance. It was glaringly obvious—he was drunk too.

But why me? Why did it have to be me?

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