3 ☪ Hot Romance 03
April had passed the spring equinox.
A cold snap hit, keeping temperatures chilly, especially at night.
Rain pounded relentlessly against the floor-to-ceiling windows, forming sheets of water that blurred the view outside, where the highway teemed with traffic under the downpour.
Hermitage Splendor Residence was a Su Family property, Hangbei’s renowned enclave for the wealthy, home to the city’s top business tycoons.
This villa was the new wedding gift from Su Dingran to them, but no one knew that this seemingly blissfully loving young couple hadn’t even stepped into each other’s rooms after living together for half a year.
The door stood ajar. Su Yicen turned sideways, took a step back, and pushed it open with his back.
Song Chan had a cold constitution and feared the chill, so she always kept the bedroom temperature a few degrees higher. The moment the door opened, warmth mingled with a faint, fresh fragrance flowed out from inside.
Su Yicen strode to the bedside, gently placed her on the bed, pulled over the covers to tuck her in, and neatly secured the edges.
The dim yellow light from the bedside motion-sensor nightlamp spilled onto Song Chan’s face, dyeing her cheeks—already flushed from alcohol—with a lazy tint of red.
They had been married for half a year, but this was the first time they had been so close. Su Yicen’s gaze lingered on Song Chan, looking unabashedly for a long while until her brows furrowed slightly, her long lashes trembled in struggle, and his eyes involuntarily darted away.
The sensation of being wrapped up probably felt too confining for Song Chan. Her slender white arm broke free, and she immediately twisted her body in discomfort.
The smooth fabric of her nightgown caught on the sheets as she turned, pulling half of it aside and exposing most of her porcelain-white, jade-like skin. Vaguely, the outline of what wrapped her chest came into view.
Fortunately, stray strands of hair partially veiled it, preventing her body from being fully exposed to Su Yicen’s eyes.
Seeing this sudden erotic scene, Su Yicen froze for a moment before quickly looking away.
His brain short-circuited for a few seconds. When he turned back to the person on the bed, Song Chan had opened her eyes and was staring at him intently, her gaze heavy with drunkenness.
In that instant, the air seemed to solidify. Their eyes met, but neither spoke. The room fell so quiet that only their erratic breathing could be heard.
Song Chan broke the silence first. Her suddenly serious expression resembled a little beast trying hard to look intimidating.
She asked, “You… were you peeking at me?”
Hearing this, even the usually steady and calm Su Yicen lost his composure. He avoided her questioning eyes and tried to retreat from her room.
Her serious facade didn’t last long. Song Chan couldn’t hold it in; the corners of her mouth curved up, her eyes bending into crescents as she pulled the slipped nightgown over her body.
Song Chan sat up and looked at the man before her, running her fingers through her tousled hair.
She smiled and said, “Congratulations, you won the film emperor at the Golden Flower Award.”
“You watched?”
Su Yicen’s voice came out low and husky, a flash of irrepressible joy crossing his face.
But then he thought about it—as a top editor at a major domestic Fashion magazine, it was normal for Song Chan to follow the Golden Flower Award red carpet; it was just part of her job. His joy faded accordingly.
“Mm.” Song Chan nodded earnestly, tilting her head back and giving him a thumbs-up. “Su Yicen, you’re really amazing, so excellent, but…”
She seemed troubled, unsure whether to continue.
Su Yicen stood by the bed, maintaining a polite social distance, and patiently asked her, “But what?”
She pursed her lips and looked at him for a long time before suddenly leaning forward, propping herself on the bed and crawling a few steps toward him. Her finger poked at his body.
She shook her head with a helpless sigh before voicing her complaint. “But… can you stop always showing up in my dreams?”
With that, she lifted her hand again and poked Su Yicen to confirm.
His shirt was half-soaked from the rain, clinging to the outlines of his abs. The firm, solid feel of his muscles hooked her; emboldened, she touched it, but that wasn’t enough—she gave it a light pinch.
Song Chan pouted and muttered, “And so realistic too…”
The instant her finger poked his abdomen, Su Yicen’s averted gaze refocused on Song Chan.
Her soft, tender touch shifted from poking to stroking, then to a tentative pinch. Even through his shirt, the spots she touched felt like electric currents zipping through, instantly tensing Su Yicen’s nerves.
Song Chan’s nightgown had a loose, non-clinging collar, and in her current position, it hid nothing—her body beneath was almost fully exposed to Su Yicen’s eyes.
The dual assault of tactile and visual stimulation was blatant seduction to him.
All of Song Chan’s movements now brimmed with provocation. She was the drunk one, yet Su Yicen’s breathing quickened in response.
But clearly, the intoxicated Song Chan had no idea how alluring she looked.
She stood up from the bed, her unsteady steps nearly toppling her—fortunately, Su Yicen caught her, and she tumbled into his arms.
The scent of alcohol mixed with Song Chan’s fragrance enveloped them. Her breath brushed past his ear, stimulating every sense and nearly intoxicating him too.
The position was awkward. Song Chan’s small hands pressed against his chest as she pushed herself up to look down at him, her fingers restlessly pinching his slightly flushed cheeks.
Song Chan kept complaining. “But this time, you can’t kiss me or touch me. Do you know how rude that is to a girl?”
Kissing her, touching her, dreaming of him—these connected, and it wasn’t hard for Su Yicen to guess what she meant.
“You dreamed of me?”
Meeting her puzzled, drunken eyes, Su Yicen halted his gradual approach. Their breaths intertwined with every exhale.
Song Chan shook her head and admitted generously, “That’s right, I dreamed of you.”
She pouted. “You’re showing up in my dream again now. Don’t get handsy with me; it makes you seem totally ungentlemanly. What if your fans find out?”
Though thoroughly confused, Su Yicen nodded. “You’re really looking out for me.”
Afraid Song Chan might fall, Su Yicen wrapped an arm around her waist and patiently listened as she went on.
Song Chan suddenly laughed, shedding her facade like a little bully dropping the act. “But I can touch you, and I can kiss you…”
“After all… I crave your body.”
The drunken Song Chan was a different person entirely, ignoring the man before her as she proved her words with action, her hands roaming wildly over Su Yicen’s shirt.
Su Yicen’s sharp eyes darkened as he endured the teasing stimulation. He failed to control the strength of his grip on her waist, and Song Chan let out a aggrieved whimper, her soft, seductive “ow” sending hooks into him.
He reflexively loosened his hold. The arm around her waist lost support, and Song Chan’s body lost balance, falling uncontrollably toward him.
In her panic, the off-kilter Song Chan grabbed Su Yicen’s shirt.
Amid the noisy rain that night, the sound of fabric ripping was deafening. The crisp white shirt tore open, buttons popping to expose his chest muscles.
Stabilizing herself, Song Chan hooked her lips in a seductive smile like a fox, clearly delighted by the sight. Her hand roamed freely upward.
Song Chan sensed the change in Su Yicen’s gaze.
His face remained as steady as ever, but his quickened breathing betrayed him, along with the suppressed desire in his eyes.
Though aware of the danger, the drunken Song Chan had fully immersed herself in the role of predator.
She showed no hesitation. Her arm climbed around Su Yicen’s neck as she rose on tiptoe and kissed his lips.
It came with a loud, resounding smack.
The soft touch of her lips was the deadliest temptation. This time, though Su Yicen closed his eyes, the throbbing vein at his temple revealed his restraint.
The hand supporting Song Chan’s waist tightened involuntarily, pulling her closer.
They had lived together for so long in utter politeness—nothing like this scene had ever happened; they hadn’t even held hands before. Their closest contact was probably that fake wedding photo.
Su Yicen fought the urge to pin her down, his coaxing voice laced with husky emotion. “You’re drunk. Go to sleep.”
He took a few steps back, putting distance between him and Song Chan—to protect her and to guard his own innocence.
But Song Chan clung tightly to his hand. With no other choice, Su Yicen sat on the bed to keep her company until she fell asleep.
Time passed slowly. The person on the bed stared at him eagerly until her eyelids finally drooped in battle.
After lulling Song Chan to sleep, Su Yicen quietly returned to the room next door. The surging blood in his body kept him tense.
Suddenly, arms wrapped around him from behind. Feeling their body heat merge in the embrace, Su Yicen sensed Song Chan’s soft, fragrant form leaning fully against him.
Su Yicen frowned and turned to steady her.
“Song Chan, chasing after me like this is dangerous.”
He warned her, “I’m a normal man with needs.”
Song Chan didn’t grasp the peril; she only knew that when she opened her eyes, her “prey” was gone.
She frowned too, poking aggressively at Su Yicen’s chest.
“You’re the dangerous one. You’ve kissed and groped me so many times—why can’t I get payback?”
As she spoke, she advanced slowly into Su Yicen’s space. He retreated a step, and she followed, until he backed up against the bed with nowhere to go.
She suddenly raised her hand and shoved his chest hard. They both lost balance and fell onto the soft bed.
Song Chan loomed over Su Yicen, their bodies pressed fully together. She felt the scorching heat against her abdomen and tried to push herself up, her hands groping aimlessly over him.
A muffled grunt escaped Su Yicen’s nose. He gripped her wrist, his gaze profound as he sought confirmation. “Chanchan, do you know who I am?”
Song Chan blinked her hazy eyes, unsure if she was awake or still drunk, but aware she’d pinned someone down.
“You… are Su Yicen.”
Hearing her answer, Su Yicen nodded and reached behind her, unfastening the binding at her chest.
Before Song Chan could react, he flipped her over beneath him.
Su Yicen cradled her head and kissed her fiercely, dominantly, as if ripping off his gentlemanly mask to unleash all the desire buried in his heart.
His kiss was too rough; Song Chan couldn’t resist, her words dissolving into wet whimpers at her lips.
Her breath was stolen in an instant. In her panic, Song Chan sobered up somewhat, clearly aware of what was happening.
Rain pattered outside the window, muffling their ragged breaths beneath the storm. Everything happened too fast, leaving her no time to react.
It was too late to dodge now, and deep down, she didn’t want to push him away.
Following Su Yicen’s rhythm, Song Chan learned to respond, sinking deeper with him until it consumed her entire consciousness.
The raging storm outside fell silent, the world reduced to just the two of them—hearts pounding fiercely, the sound of a wrapper tearing open.
And his whisper in her ear.
“Don’t be afraid. I’ll be gentle.”