Chapter 164 - 164 He Back

In the huge penthouse alone, I sit on a barstool and gaze around the immense kitchen that I've designed.

Oh my goodness. I love it and never in a million years did I imagine I would have the opportunity to live here when I designed it.

Now I'm here, though, I'm really not sure about it. But I did know that I love him, but I fear to marry him because it will just encourage his controlling behaviour and challenging ways.

Or would he be better? More reasonable? After married?

Then my stomach does a little flip and a growl, reminding me that I should really get something to eat. I've only picked on a few biscuits today.

It's no wonder I feel exhausted right now. I'm just about to convince myself to lift my tired arse from the stool when I hear the front door open, and a few moments later, I see Feng Teng walks into the kitchen looking as wiped out as I feel.

He doesn't say anything for the longest time. He just stands there and looks at me. I notice his hands shaking slightly and his brow looks damp.

What should I do? My craving for a glass of wine diminishes instantly.

"Are you okay?" I ask.

He slowly walks over to me and stands me up.

Reaching down, he clasps the hem of my dress and pulls it up to my waist and then grabs me under my bum and lifts me up to straddle his waist. He buries his face in my hair and walks us out of the kitchen. I can feel his heartbeat clattering against my chest as I hold onto him while he takes the stairs silently with me in his arms. I want to ask him what's wrong. I've got lots of things to ask him, but he seems so despondent.

He walks us to the bed and crawls on with me below him, settling on top of me with his weight spread all over my body.

It's soothing. He locking my arms around him, I breathe into his neck and soak up his freshwater smell.

I sigh contentedly. He might be a significant contributing factor to my stress and tiredness, but he makes it disappear just as quickly as he triggers it.

"Tell me how old you are." I break the comfortable silence after I've held him until his hammering heart has returned to its usual, steady speed.

" One hundred years old," he says into my neck.

"Serious please," I say firmly.

"Does it really matter to you?" he asks tiredly.

It doesn't matter, but I want to know. He might like this quiz, but I don't and it's not going to make any difference to how I feel. I just think I should know.

It is mandatory information, like his favourite colour, food or song all of which I don't know much. I know so little about him.

"No, but I would like it if you told me. I know none of your basic information."

He nuzzles in my neck.

"But you know I love you so much," He answer unashamed.

I sigh.

That's not basic information. I start to think about my introduction of a truth f.u.c.k into our relationship.

Something has got to wheedle this small, insignificant piece of information out of him. I know my persistently asking him is having no satisfactory results.

"How was your day?" he asks, his voice muffled in my hair.

"Totally busy but very constructive." I'm quite pleased with what I managed to get done, considering I thought my day would be a bombardment of calls and texts.

"And you need to stop sending flowers to my office," I say.

His head lifts and I'm greeted with a disgusted look.

"No. Have a bath with me." He orders.

I roll my eyes at his stubbornness, but I could think of nothing better than having a bath with him at the moment.

"Okay," I nodded.

He pulls himself up so I have to release his neck, and he drops his lips to mine.

"You stay here, I'll prepare the bath." He jumps up and takes his jacket off as he goes to the bathroom.

When I hear the water start running and I turn onto my side, feeling content and tranquil. He makes me feel like this and it's these times when I know why I'm here.

It's because of how attentive, loving and tender he is.

Perhaps marry him wouldn't be so bad after all. But then I give myself a quick reminder that I'm currently on his galaxy space.  I won't be thinking like this once I've not conformed to one of his demands. It will come, and it might.

He strolls back into the bedroom, and I lay back and admire his incredible perfect body. He seriously has a beautiful walk.

Reaching up, he pulls his tie loose and throws it on the nearby chaise lounge, and then starts working his shirt buttons. He lets it hang loose and leans down to take his shoes and socks off. He's on barefoot with his trousers resting on those glorious, narrow h.i.p.s, his shirt open, revealing the sharp lines of his chest. I could sink my teeth into him.

He would probably enjoy that.

"Enjoying the view much?" He accused.

I look up and find his eyes pools studying me. That look alone renders me a soaking wet mess.

"Of course," I answer.

My voice is throaty. I didn't mean it to be, it's just what he does to me.

"Always," he confirms.

"Now, come here." He commands.

I slide myself off the bed and slip my heels off.

"Strips your dress," he demands softly.

I pad over to him, keeping hold of his hypnotising eyes, his arms hanging loosely at his side as he follows my progression.

My heart is ricocheting off my rib cage, and I part my lips to let subtle streams of air escape, watching him as he slowly runs his tongue over his bottom lip.

"Now. Turn around," he commands.

I obey and slowly pivot away from him. I feel his palms rest on my shoulders and the contact, even though my dress, zaps my nerve endings to life.