Whispers of Destiny: His Belated Love novel Chapter 122

The man bowed his head, his handsome face closing in on Rosemary, his straight nose and those lips - perfect in shape and hue just inches away.

With such an invasion of her personal space, Rosemary's heart raced, and she pushed against his chest, "What are you doing?"

Scared the life out of her! Because they were so close, Maxwell lowered his voice when he spoke, the usual chill in his tone, yet if one listened closely, there was a trace of a smirk, but it couldn't hide the bone-chilling cold, "Given up hope with Martin, thinking of giving Hogan a shot?"

His breath fell on her lips, Rosemary tilted her head back, trying to put distance between them, but her head was already up against the door; there was no escaping.

"Aren't you supposed to be getting ointment? Go lie down over there."

She nodded towards the couch, pushing against Maxwell who was almost completely pressed against her.

This was too risky, and a single careless move and things could go off, although Maxwell seemed to have more self-control in these matters, with no rumors of him cozying up to any woman during the three years Victoria was gone, but who knew what could happen.

Maxwell chuckled, his lips brushing hers, "I'm asking you the question."

Even without going any deeper, this alone was enough to send Rosemary into meltdown, especially as he spoke, his lips grazing hers so subtly.

Her rationality snapped like an over-tightened string in that instant. She didn't even care if her resistance would piss off Maxwell; she was pushing and shoving with all her might to break free from his hold.

She didn't speak, her lips pressed into a tight line, giving Maxwell no opportunity to take advantage.

The man looked down; even from this close, he could clearly see the rejection and panic in her eyes. She really didn't want him touching her.

Eyes red with anger and grievance, a pert nose, tight red lips, cheeks flushed with color, and fair delicate skin...every part of her was tempting him to kiss her.

Without any regard, ignoring all her rejections. With Maxwell's skill, he could subdue a woman with one hand, and with the natural physical disparity between men and women, she stood no chance of escape.

And Rosemary could feel Maxwell's reaction. Her eyes widened in astonishment, a look of disdain in her gaze; men's minds and bodies indeed operated separately.

Maxwell, the instigator, showed no embarrassment at being seen through, and when he met Rosemary's eyes, he even rasped, "Stop moving."

Rosemary clenched her teeth, "If we switched places, and I told you not to move, would you listen?"

Maxwell's lips curved into a smirk, a low chuckle, "You could try."

Right, no reasoning with a beast. In the awkward silence, there came a couple of knocks on the door, "Rosemary, are you there?"

It was Martin. A clear joy flashed in Rosemary's eyes; at a time like this, anyone, even a stranger, was a welcome interruption.

She looked at Maxwell, a silent demand, "Let go."