The Enticing CEO’s Chosen Bride novel Chapter 1799

Before she could finish, her words were silenced by a passionate, punishing kiss. The first sensation was pain.

As if he was punishing her, angry with her, biting her lips in retaliation.

After the initial shock, all she felt was surprise. Her eyes widened, her body frozen in place as she gazed up at the handsome face she'd been yearning for over the years.

The painful grip on her lips had long since lost its initial intent. Now, his cool lips were grinding and caressing hers, parting her teeth.

At that moment of mutual intimacy, Rose's wide-eyed surprise quivered slightly, her hand gripping the edge of the kitchen counter tightening, then relaxing. Slowly, her hand dropped to her side, gently grabbing the hem of his shirt.b2

She tilted her head back, quietly accepting the sudden, unexpected kiss. She didn't move, yet inside she was frantic. If she could, she would want nothing more than to respond to him without hesitation.

But she was afraid. Afraid that her response might provoke his disgust, or wake him from his dream, causing him to say it was all a misunderstanding. What would she do then?

She'd been wanting this man for too long. Countless nights, lying in bed, she'd thought about how to rid herself of this obsession with Morrison.

In those moments of impulse, she'd fantasized about pinning him to the bed, stripping him bare, and finally satisfying her long-held desires. The next day, she could just put her pants back on, slip into a dress, pretend nothing had happened, and walk away, carefree.

So she could claim that she'd loved and she'd had him.

After the school reunion, she didn't know what it truly felt like to be with him. She'd had him, but still, it wasn't enough.

People were never satisfied, always wanting more.

Seeing the stiffness in Rose's body, Morrison's eyes narrowed slightly, his hand gripping her waist tighter. Rose found it hard to breathe, her breath coming out in short, heated gasps. The softness of her voice only served to heighten the intimacy of the moment. Morrison's breath hitched in response.

Rose, being pressed firmly by Morrison, could only tilt her head back to respond to his weight. The situation was somewhat out of control. Just a kiss seemed to ignite a spark in both of them. It wasn't until Morrison's body pressed closer, his body against her belly, that Rose suddenly came back to her senses, turning her head to avoid his kiss.

Morrison's lips brushed past the corner of her mouth and cheek, finding only air.

Rose's hand had somehow found its way to his chest, gently pushing him away. Her cheeks were flushed, Morrison's warm breath tickling her ear. She lowered her gaze, “Stop.”

She held onto Morrison's shirt tightly, her voice filled with tension and shyness. "You... are pressing against me."

After saying these words, she lowered her head even more.

Morrison's expression changed slightly. He knew their current position all too well. As for what was pressing against her, no one knew better than him.

His face turned sour. Being interrupted like this, and having it pointed out so bluntly by her, how could he be in a good mood?

But seeing her blush and shy demeanor, especially her reddening ears, it somehow eased his irritation. The usually arrogant and dismissive Rose also had moments like this.

Staring at her delicate earlobe close at hand, he once again leaned in and bit it.

Caught off guard, Rose's body tensed and shuddered slightly. She flinched, pulling her neck back and looking at him. Her cheeks were flushed, her expression a mix of surprise and shyness.

"You..."

Morrison straightened up slightly, a grunt escaping him as he fixed his dark gaze on her face. “This is your punishment for cooking for another man in front of your husband, taking matters into your own hands without permission, and mentioning the name of your rumored boyfriend.”

Rose: "Wasn't it you who wanted to ask me again?"

Morrison squinted at her, “You could have changed your answer.

How could she possibly change it? She had told him once at the supermarket, and just now she had answered him again.

He obviously knew, yet he still asked her again. The answer to him had always been the same, so how else would she answer it?

“So you better remember that, otherwise, the punishment won't just stop here.’

Morrison's voice was slightly harsh, and after finishing, he straightened up and let go of her.

Yes. He did know. The moment she mentioned him while preparing dinner, he knew. However, he needed a reason to "punish" her. So the name "Winston" was a great reason.

As long as it came from her mouth, he had every reason to give her a taste of punishment.

He was well aware of her answer to "Winston, but what he wanted was to coax her into saying it herself.

And this woman didn't disappoint him.

A smile appeared on his lips curled up almost imperceptibly. Mission accomplished.

Feeling satisfied with his accomplishment, he was naturally in a good mood.

“Are you still cooking?"

He suddenly asked, leaving Rose in a dilemma. She looked at him with some hesitation, "I've already told him. If | cancel now, it wouldn't be very nice. He really is my golden goose."

Morrison raised an eyebrow, "So?"

Rose bit her lip, "I'll cook.”

"Hmm." Morrison made a sound of acknowledgement, his face wearing a somewhat “strange” smile in Rose's eyes, “You wait and see."

Rose blinked, staring at him with confusion. What did he mean by that?

But after Morrison finished speaking, his hand, which had been around Rose's waist, pinched her waist lightly before letting her go and walking out.

Rose blinked, feeling a sense of unease, but after thinking about it, what kind of punishment could he give her for waiting?

After that, she didn't give it much thought.

Did he think she was easy to deal with? Just say punishment and there would be punishment?

Hopefully, he didn't forget that she was pregnant now.

Rose raised her eyebrows and continued to busy herself in the kitchen. Serving Winston, this living god, was like earning money for her son's meal.

After about half an hour in the kitchen, she finally stepped out. She refreshed little Moon's food and water, pulled the bag in front of the sofa out, glanced at it, and then put all the items in the storage cabinet. They could be used as backup in the future.

She looked around the room. Morrison didn't have many of his belongings in the house, but somehow, it felt as though he had taken over. His shoes were on the rack, his jacket casually draped over the couch, and his coffee mug resided on the coffee table. These small changes made the house feel different.

It was as though the house was marked with his presence, and his scent. She realized that was why the house