Wrong Flirt, Right Trouble: His Uncle Pulls Me Close

"Mmph..." Ivy Sherwood was pinned against the wall.

She wasn’t dressed warmly, and the wall felt icy cold against her back. In front of her was a searing body, and a kiss she couldn’t escape.

This face, so close, she didn’t even need to look to know who it was.

The potent smell of alcohol seemed to seep into her through the deep kiss.

She knew it was Quentin Blackwood. The person holding her so tightly, as if he wanted to devour her, was Quentin Blackwood.

"Quentin... what are... you doing..." It was difficult for Ivy to even get a sentence out. The man before her was impossible to push away.

Quentin had one arm wrapped around her waist, while his other hand roamed over her body, lighting fires everywhere. But his lips never left hers.

"It hurts..."

Perhaps it was Ivy’s cry of pain that jolted a sliver of reason back into Quentin. He loosened his grip slightly, kicked the door shut, and carried Ivy toward the bed.

"Quentin Blackwood, let go of me! Let me go!"

Ivy struggled, but she was no match for Quentin.

Quentin threw Ivy onto the bed. With a RIP, he tore her clothes open.

His kisses fell like rain, trailing from her earlobe to her neck, and down to her chest.

The more Ivy struggled, the more excited Quentin seemed to become.

"Let go... Don’t..." Quentin pinned Ivy’s hands above her head, holding both her wrists with just one of his, immobilizing her. In this compromising position, she was completely unable to struggle.

Quentin pressed down on her, his free hand caressing her waist before soon moving to her lower abdomen.

Ivy’s waist and lower abdomen were already sensitive areas. Quentin’s fingers weren’t delicate; they were calloused, and she had never been able to stand their touch before.

Now, there was a small life in her belly. This was the first time since she’d found out she was pregnant that the baby’s father had felt its presence like this.

Beneath Quentin’s large palm was the very place where that small life resided—it was Quentin’s child.

It was unclear if Quentin sensed something, but his scorching palm remained pressed to that spot, with no clothes between them, in direct contact with her skin.

Ivy was over three months pregnant, and her once-flat belly now had a slight curve.

"No..." Ivy’s delicate toes curled up. "Don’t..."

Ivy twisted her body, trying to escape the man’s grasp, but he forced his leg between hers.

She didn’t know what Quentin was trying to do, but whatever it was, Ivy didn’t want it!

"Don’t..." Tears streamed down her face, and her voice was choked with sobs.

Her lips were captured once more, and Ivy’s voice was trapped in her throat. Quentin’s earlier ferocity was gone, replaced by a lingering, grinding kiss.

His kisses traced a path from her nose to her eyelashes and the corner of her eye. He seemed to taste something salty, and his body stiffened.

"Don’t cry." His hand brushed the corner of Ivy’s eye, wiping away a teardrop. His voice was incredibly hoarse.

"Get away! You bastard!" Ivy cursed, pushing at him.

But Quentin’s head drooped, burying itself in the crook of Ivy’s neck as he inhaled her scent.

"I missed you so much," his voice came, just like every other time he’d said it.

Except this time, the emotion felt even more intense.

Ivy froze, letting the man’s breath wash over her neck.

’Quentin... missed her?’

’What a joke.’

"You have the wrong person," Ivy said. She didn’t believe in love growing from prolonged companionship, nor did she ever entertain the idea that after all this time, Quentin might have fallen for her.

"I wouldn’t make that mistake."

It was impossible for him to be mistaken. He didn’t even need to see Ivy’s face; he could pick out her silhouette or her voice from a crowd in an instant.

Ivy felt a prickling in her nose. She opened her mouth, but she didn’t know what to say.

"Quentin, what’s the point of this? Wasn’t I clear enough yesterday?"

"If you try anything with me, I’ll call the police, have you arrested, and make sure you rot in jail!"

"Then call the police," Quentin said.

’Have me arrested, lock me up for life... would I stop missing her then?’

"If you’re sick, go see a doctor. And don’t come looking for me anymore. My boyfriend will get jealous," Ivy said, making up an excuse.

’Maybe I really do need to find a boyfriend. Would that be the only way to make Quentin stop pestering me?’

’He was the one who said it was over, and now he’s the one coming back to harass me time and time again.’

The man who had been buried in Ivy’s neck abruptly lifted his head. "You have a boyfriend?"

"Who is it?" The words were practically squeezed from his throat.

"That’s none of your business. I don’t have to tell you."

"Is it Seth Scott? Or Elijah Hawthorne?" Quentin seemed to demand an answer.

"I told you, it has nothing to do with you. I— Mmph..."

Before Ivy could finish, Quentin’s lips were on hers again. This time, his kiss was even more forceful, more brutal than before.

Ivy’s clothes were ripped completely open. "You’re mine... You can only be mine!"

’Even if he had to take her by force, he would have her!’

’Ivy was his, and she could only be his!’

Quentin was like a different person, a madman who had now lost every last shred of reason.

Ivy was terrified. If this continued, Quentin would definitely do something to her tonight.

Quentin was all too familiar with her body; he was the one who had taught it how to respond. Perhaps it was because of the pregnancy, but her body had become even more sensitive. With just a few touches, Quentin made Ivy’s legs go weak and her back ache.

She couldn’t control her body’s physiological response, but her heart told her this was wrong.

Ivy didn’t know what to do. She remembered that whenever she cried out in pain, Quentin would seem to become a little gentler.

She didn’t know if this method would work, but she tried it, crying out, "Quentin, it hurts... It hurts so much..."

Sure enough, it was like the man’s weak spot. The moment Quentin heard Ivy cry out in pain, he would stop.

Even though Quentin was numb with alcohol and provoked by the word "boyfriend," the moment he heard Ivy say she was in pain, his heart clenched.

"Where does it hurt?" the man’s urgent voice was laced with worry. ’Was I too rough?’

’She was the person he treasured most in the world; how could he possibly bear to cause her pain?’

Ivy seized the opportunity, raised her leg, and planted it against his stomach.

The man grunted. Seizing her chance, Ivy shoved Quentin away.

She’d actually held back. Otherwise, she would have gone straight for Quentin’s family jewels and ruined them.

Ivy pushed Quentin off, grabbed the nearby air conditioner blanket, wrapped it around herself, and ran for the door.

As she opened the door, Ivy’s hands were trembling, terrified that if Quentin caught up to her, she wouldn’t be able to escape.

But then she heard a loud THUD from behind her, like something heavy had fallen...

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