Fated love: the unwanted bride

However, now, he was increasingly unsure.

More and more signs were showing him that Jasmine Yale truly no longer liked him.

Three years had radically altered so much.

Jasmine Yale opened her eyes.

“I’m going to take a shower. If you’re not here for anything else, you should go,” she said, utterly exhausted.

“Jasmine Yale, don’t you feel anything at all?”

“Feel what?” she asked, looking at him curiously.

“I took you to Maple Mountain, I watched the snow with you, and you were just humoring me?” Sylvan Cheney demanded.

“I turned you down,” Jasmine Yale replied calmly, “It was your insistence that we go.”

“Jasmine Yale, don’t you have a heart?”

Sylvan Cheney was truly enraged.

Her words were like pouring oil over a flaming fire.

In her view, everything he did for her—from making her sweet sugar tea to taking her to Maple Mountain—was merely him wishfully thinking!

Seeing the anger in Sylvan’s bloodshot eyes, Jasmine understood he was furious.

But what right did he have to be angry, really?

“No, I don’t have a heart. You shouldn’t be kind to me. I can’t feel it.”

“Really? No heart? I want to see if you have a heart!”

Saying this, Sylvan Cheney grabbed Jasmine Yale’s hand and yanked her onto the bed!

Her wrist was left both red and throbbing by his rough handling.

He tossed her onto the bed, and before she could react, his towering figure was on top of her!

His long fingers trailed up the inside of her thigh—

“You didn’t have your period this time? Huh?”

A look of panic passed through Jasmine Yale’s eyes!

She resisted Sylvan Cheney with all her might: “Stop it, don’t do this—I’m going to scream… ”

“Scream?” Sylvan Cheney gave a laugh as if hearing a joke, “Only what I, Sylvan Cheney, don’t want is unattainable.”

With that, his left hand pinned her hands down and kept her flailing legs in check!

His massive figure was pinning her down and everything started to become a blur to Jasmine Yale.

She was never his equal when it came to physical dominance.

Her wrists were securely bound by his grip.

Sylvan Cheney’s cold right hand explored up her skirt and came to a rest just above her heart.

Jasmine Yale’s face was pale: “Sylvan Cheney, you bloody beast in human clothing!”

“Didn’t you say you don’t have a heart? Why is it pounding so fiercely here, then?” Sylvan Cheney asked, “In a moment, won’t it be pounding even more fiercely?”

“Sylvan Cheney, I don’t want this.”

Jasmine Yale resists vehemently, but he pressed down on her sternly, leaving her no chance to escape.

“Really? You don’t want it? Or you just don’t want to do it with me?”

His hands roamed all over her body; beneath his touch, Jasmine Yale’s body was burning like fire.

All of a sudden, Sylvan Cheney leaned down, lowering his face.

His cool lips caught her soft pink lips, nipping, gnawing, and kissing.

Every single word Jasmine Yale wanted to say was cut off by his kiss.

Her shoulders shook violently; beneath him, she was just like a pitiful little kitten.

Trembling, scared, panicking.

Several times, she tried to speak, but every time, his kiss silenced her.

His scent, as always, was a subtle agarwood fragrance, but with a strong undertone of fury.

This fury was translated into every stroke of his hand, making them particularly rough.

His kiss was unusually brutal, grinding over her lips back and forth.

In the bedroom, the only sounds left were Sylvan Cheney’s ragged breathing and Jasmine Yale’s whimpering sobs.

Sylvan Cheney ripped off her skirt and threw it on the ground, then tugged his tie off harshly.

His gaze was filled with unfathomable depth and darkness.