COPYRIGHT © 2017 Miu
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No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, mechanical, electronical, photocopying, recording or otherwise without the prior written permission of the Author.
This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and events are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
All pictures and multimedia used are not the author’s work and doesn’t claim any legal rights.
MATURE CONTENT and VULGAR words not suited for young readers below eighteen (18) years old.
Zhander must have mistaken my lustful face for an expression of a lost person when he took a peek at me and continued.
“It’s uncool . . . You saw something that made me look pathetic. It’s so embarrassing I can’t even talk nor look at you.”
. . .
. . .
“Oh~ Zhander! You’re soooo cute!”
I hopped to him while Zhander was caught in surprise, and we fell on the sand. He laid on his back while me atop him.
Zhander patted my back while I giggled against the warmth of his chest. I raised my head inches from his, staring at his dark violet eyes, lost in all the emotions flashing within.
After a moment, a warm hand caressed my face.
“Nei tuoi occhi c’è il cielo . . . (Heaven is in your eyes…)”
Zhander’s voice was deeper than usual as he stared into my eyes.
I couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of love and pride.
He never said words in Italian, his mother’s native language, as an endearment, especially towards women.
Until now that is . . .
I caressed his bruised cheek and made my way to the cut on his lips.
“Ya khochu potselovat’ tebya . . . ,” I whispered in Russian, my mother’s native language.
Zhander’s eyes turned deeper while his fingers made its way to my lips.
“Little Stella, it should be my line.”
Zhander reversed our position while being careful not to crush me underneath him. He held my chin and stared at me before he slowly, painfully-slowly, leaned in closer for a kiss.
I blinked and closed my eyes.
My brain’s impure thoughts were overpowered by the warm sensations that were pleasing to the heart.
I thought kisses would be more powerful and rough and savage and overwhelming and wet and erotic . . .
But . . . Zhander’s kiss . . . It was –– well . . . If I have to say it . . .
When his lips landed on mine, I fought the urge to say sarcastic remarks since we just reconciled.
It was not even a kiss. His lips were just grazing against mine. Like a feather that fell on a soft pillow and vanished.
I opened my eyes, and Zhander’s pained face stumbled my view. Like he did something unforgivable or something.
What the hell?!
Why was it when it came to me, this man would return to ancient times where it was a sin to even glance at women?
“L-let’s go. It’s getting cold.”
Oh, no~. Not this time, Zhander.
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