Oops My Toyboy Is A Hidden Tycoon novel Chapter 172

Chapter 172 

Cynthia had always been particular about cleanliness. Since arriving on the island, she hadn’t been able to take a proper shower, and even a dip in the sea left her feeling uneasy. 

Then she recalled the little creek she, Ethan, and Jonathan had found on their first day, while foraging for mushrooms. The creek had fresh water from a mountain waterfall that plunged into a deep pool. The water had been crystal clear, and Cynthia had been amazed by it. 

She decided to head there for a bath. Guided by her memory, she didn’t wander off course and soon found the familiar clear pond. 

In the day, the water had been almost transparent, but now it was cloaked in darkness. The moonlight danced on the surface, and she could still see the deep blue shimmer of the water. 

The waterfall flowed smoothly, and despite the constant rush, the sound of the water was soothing, like a symphony in the quiet of the night. 

Eager, Cynthia hid her clothes in a secluded spot near the shore, then carefully undressed and stepped into the pond. The water wasn’t as cold as she’d expected; it was almost warm. As she sank into the water, Cynthia let out a contented sigh. She began to swim freely in the pond. 

The evening breeze whispered through the leaves, and clouds drifted across the sky, sometimes hiding the moon, sometimes letting it peek through the treetops. 

Swimming in the pond, Cynthia’s skin gleamed like a gemstone, softly glowing like a mermaid. The moonlight bathed her, and the night wrapped around her. Cynthia felt a sense of joy and fulfillment. 

The peace didn’t last. Cynthia sensed a figure in the shadows and caught some faint noises. 

“Who’s there?” she called out, quickly tucking her body into the water, only her head showing. 

The clouds shifted, and moonlight flooded the scene, revealing a familiar, handsome face–it was Jonathan. He was shirtless, half–submerged, leaning against a bluestone with his unwavering gaze fixed on Cynthia. 

His eyes were intense, but his face was a mask. He was quiet, brooding, almost blending into the night. 

Cynthia was taken aback. Anger flashed across her face. “Jonathan, what are you doing here?” 

Jonathan’s expression remained calm, his deep eyes as enigmatic as the darkness around them. He didn’t budge from his spot against the stone. His voice came out, a little rough. “I could ask you the same thing.” 

Cynthia’s face flushed with anger. “Jonathan, you were peeking on me!” 

“I wasn’t,” he denied, but then a smirk played on his lips. “I was watching, openly.” 

That was it. Cynthia couldn’t hold back her fury. She swam straight for Jonathan, ready to give him a piece of her mind. She stopped just short of him. She wanted to grab his arm and dislocate it. But before she could make a move, Jonathan acted fast. He stood up in a flash, his arms snaking around Cynthia’s waist, pulling her from the water. 

With a swift motion, he pinned her against the stone, his body pressing close, leaving no space between them. Cynthia was stunned. In her mind, Jonathan was the delicate pretty boy who couldn’t even muster the strength to tie a chicken. She didn’t understand why he was now effortlessly overpowering her. 

She tried to fight back, but Jonathan had her wrist pinned against the stone, immobilizing her. It was clear how much 

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Chapter 172 

strength he was using to hold her in place. 

But Cynthia wasn’t giving up. She struggled, straining to break free. 

“Don’t move, or I can’t promise what I’ll do next,” Jonathan’s voice was low, husky, with a familiar hint of desire that Cynthia knew too well. 

Cynthia suddenly got the gravity of the situation. She and Jonathan were nearly naked, half exposed to the cool air, half submerged in the dark waters. Jonathan’s body was pressed tight against hers, their heat rising fast, almost an uncontrollable 

instinct. 

She could feel Jonathan’s body like a hot iron, burning against her. His breathing quickened. 

Her gaze fell on his face, unintentionally. It was a face so handsome it seemed surreal–sharp features, a jawline that could’ve been carved by an artist. His deep, dark eyes seemed to blaze with fire. 

His eyebrows were slightly furrowed, showing restraint. There’s something compelling about a man’s self–discipline to a