Betrayed by the Father Reborn in His Rival's Arms novel Chapter 183

He had intended to push her away.

But then he met Madeline's eyes.

The grip of his hands involuntarily tightened, supporting Madeline as he pulled her flush against his chest.

The moment her warmth seeped into his skin, it felt as though a locked door inside his heart had quietly eased open.

In her vision, Quentin had indeed reigned in some of his terrifying, icy demeanor.

His crisp shirt bunched at the waist from the desperation of Madeline's embrace, yet his face showed absolutely no trace of annoyance at her boldness.

The ocean was pitch black, illuminated only by the flickering neon lights of passing cruise ships that cast an unreal, towering silhouette of the man before her.

It felt like a sweet, intoxicating dream.

Madeline's gaze burned with intensity, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears.

Her luminous skin glowed, while her naturally flushed lips looked devastatingly crimson under the cold flashes of light—like a fatal poison wrapped in a beautiful, crystalline guise.

She stood on her tiptoes, inching closer and closer to Quentin.

Quentin's gaze remained a pool of darkness, his silent lips pressed into a tight line; aside from a fleeting hint of warmth, his expression was still as biting as the winter wind.

But she forced herself to keep leaning in.

She got so close that the scent of his cologne wrapped around her—a sharp, intoxicating blend of crisp mint and mysterious, earthy woods.

The air fell silent for two agonizing seconds. With their noses brushing and only a fraction of an inch separating her from Quentin's mouth, Madeline's heart gave a nervous stutter before she closed the distance and pressed her lips to his.

Quentin felt a sudden softness against his mouth.

Her sweet, intoxicating scent instantly washed over him.

Caught entirely off guard, he seemed stunned by the sensation.

To Madeline, he felt like a feral beast stripped of all reason.

Even so, she never let go, clinging to him just as tightly.

Her head spun dizzyingly, and her chest heaved as she struggled for air.

Quentin's mind had abandoned all logic; every wicked thing he wanted to do to her was surging wildly through his thoughts.

He opened his eyes mid-kiss, watching Madeline's dazed, half-lidded gaze in the dim light, tracing the flutter of her damp eyelashes as her intoxicating scent consumed him.

Tears spilled from the corners of her eyes, trailing into her thick hair. The heavy flush of passion on her face was utterly breathtaking.

It wasn't until a wave of unbearable dizziness hit her that her hands finally slipped from his waist.

Sanity snapped back the moment Madeline let out a strained whimper. Quentin felt the scorching heat of her tears against his palm, astonished that she hadn't tried to push him away despite her obvious discomfort—as if she was willing to endure anything for him. That level of reckless surrender left even him stunned.