Chapter213 – We’re in public!
Clarissa turned her head away, trying to ignore the restless heat pooling in her stomach. “I’ll… after we get back.”
Her legs shifted, nervous and restless, and Atticus’s eyes darkened. He remembered vividly how those same legs had wrapped around his shoulders the night before. His breathing quickened, fire flickering in his gaze.
It took every ounce of control for him to rein it back. Finally, he slid her heels back on, his voice thick. “Fine. We’ll continue at home.”
Clarissa shot him a fierce glare and shoved at his shoulder. “You. I still have work to finish. You’re getting more and more unreasonable.”
But Atticus only tugged her back into the seat, buckling her belt with firm hands. “Your health comes first. Let your secretary handle the rest. You’re coming home with me.”
He started the car. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught her staring at him, her gaze intense and unreadable.
He laughed softly. “Why are you looking at me like that, hm? Careful—I’ll fuck you right here in the car.”
“Can’t you ever be serious?” she muttered, tearing her gaze away, sighing as she turned to the window.
Atticus studied her profile, the tension in her shoulders. A flash of cold steel passed through his eyes. “What happened today? Who pissed you off?”
“Who would dare? I’m the boss,” Clarissa said breezily, but after a beat she added, almost with amusement, “Well… maybe a little.”
She recounted what had happened on set. Halfway through, she found herself laughing. “Honestly, isn’t it both maddening and funny?”
Atticus watched her animated expression, that spark of girlish charm beneath her usual poise. Something inside him softened, even as a dangerous edge lingered in his eyes. He nodded slowly. “Yes..”
To Atticus, there were only two kinds of people in the world: those worthy of respect—and animals.
Clarissa leaned back into her seat with a soft sigh. “But with that guy around, I’m honestly worried we won’t finish filming on time. Director Gu said the next shoot will be on location, and that’ll be even tougher.”
Atticus tightened his grip on the wheel. “You’re going too?”
“Of course,” Clarissa replied firmly. “This project is everything. If it works, the company will finally recover from the losses. I can’t just sit back and hope—it needs me there.”
His eyes glinted. “How are you so sure of the outcome? A prophet now?”
Clarissa blinked at him, then smirked. “And if I said I was, would you believe me?”
Atticus’s mouth curved into a wicked grin. “Then tell me this, prophet—what am I thinking right now?”
Her eyes swept over his sharp profile, playful light dancing in her gaze. “That you want to kiss me.”
She leaned over, brushed a quick kiss across his cheek, then pulled back just as quickly. “But since you’re driving, I’ll take the initiative this time.”
“Clarissa, you’re dead wrong.” His voice dropped, gravelly and hot, his eyes fixed on the road. “I don’t just want to kiss you. I want to fuck you.”
Her face flamed at his bluntness. He always managed to flip her teasing back on her, leaving her flustered and breathless. Huffing, she sat back and folded her arms, trying to ignore him. He wasn’t cute at all anymore—definitely not like when he was a boy.
Atticus cut her a long, hungry look, as though he might devour her right there.
The car jolted as he suddenly slammed the brakes. Clarissa gasped, nearly thrown forward if not for the seatbelt.
“Atticus, what the—”
Before she could finish, he caught her face and crushed his mouth to hers, swallowing every word. His kiss was scorching, invasive, leaving no room to breathe.
Her eyes widened in shock. They were still in the car! She shoved at his chest, fists beating against him, but he was immovable. With one hand he trapped her wrists, with the other he freed her seatbelt and hauled her onto his lap.
Her skirt rode high as she straddled him, her thighs pressed tight around his hips. Heat roared through her as she gasped, “You—you’re insane! We’re outside!”
His thumb stroked her trembling lips. His voice was hoarse, laced with dark amusement. “Didn’t you say you’d take the initiative? You kiss me, then run away? Naughty sis, seducing your brother like that…”
“Don’t talk nonsense!” Clarissa’s face was scarlet, her voice breathless. “I just kissed you. Let me go—we’re in public!”
But the hard length straining against her made her shiver. His hunger was terrifying, overwhelming. Before she could protest again, he tangled a hand in her hair and claimed her mouth, deep and consuming.
.....
By the time it was over, the moon hung low in the sky. Clarissa collapsed against his chest, her body trembling, tears streaking her cheeks. She couldn’t even lift a finger.
Atticus murmured soft words, dabbing her face with tissues, coaxing water to her lips until she finally drank. Guilt flickered in his eyes. “I pushed you too hard… Be good, sweetheart. Punish me later, any way you want. Just don’t hurt yourself.”
Her body ached everywhere, her voice hoarse, but his tenderness cracked her defenses. She drank, then leaned back, still sulking.
Atticus kissed her damp hair, his voice low, cajoling. “It’s late. Let me cook you something, hm?”
Her temper flared again. “Cook? At this hour? The supermarkets are closed, the markets are closed—what are we supposed to eat, air?”
It was the first time she’d snapped at him like this. Atticus almost laughed but bit it back when he saw how furious she was. Instead, he put on a pitiful look. “This is the mall parking lot. Why don’t we grab something inside before heading home?”
“I don’t have an appetite. If you want to eat, go yourself.” She shoved at him and tried to slide back into her seat. But her legs gave way, her body crumpling—until his arms caught her, holding her steady against him.
“Be careful.” Atticus reached for her, steadying her with a firm hand.
“Don’t touch me!” Clarissa snapped, slapping his hand away.
He slid his arm around her waist anyway, lips brushing her ear. “If you keep struggling, I’ll roll down the window.”
Clarissa froze, eyes widening. “Are you insane?”
This man was getting bolder by the day.
Atticus looked annoyingly composed—shirt neat, belt half-fastened, zipper tugged up. Meanwhile, she was still flushed, hair a tangled mess, clothes askew.
When she didn’t fight him off again, he asked casually, “What do you want to eat?”
“I don’t,” she muttered, turning her face away.
“Clarissa, you’ll get hungry.”
She pressed her lips together, ignoring him. He studied her sulking profile, a doting smile tugging at his mouth. “Figures. You probably can’t even walk right now. Such a spoiled brat. I can’t help you if you’re like this. Sit tight—I’ll grab some food.”
He eased her into the passenger seat, shut the door, and left.
Clarissa glared at his retreating back, fuming. She pounded the seat cushion, half with anger, half with helplessness. She, the older sister, was losing ground to him more and more.
Atticus strolled through the mall, picked up two set meals, and added her favorite fruit and snacks. On his way out, a jewelry store display caught his eye. Clarissa already had a cabinet overflowing with everything from a few-thousand-dollar trinkets to pieces worth hundreds of millions.
Still, something flickered in his gaze, and he stepped inside.
When he came out, he nearly collided with Dorian.
“What’s this?” Dorian sneered, his eyes raking over the bag in Atticus’s hand. “Buying cheap jewelry for Clarissa? Do you really think she’ll appreciate garbage like that?” His voice dripped with contempt.
Atticus’s smile was lazy, but his eyes were ice. “Mr. Dorian, you’ve been busy lately. Tell me—what would Clarissa think if I mentioned you’ve had someone tailing us?”
Dorian’s expression hardened. “Are you threatening me?”
“I’m just stating the obvious. If you enjoy spying on me and Clarissa, I don’t mind. Watch all you like—it only proves who she belongs to.”
The words were a spark to dry tinder. Dorian surged forward, fisting Atticus’s collar.
“Atticus, don’t get cocky. Your little games won’t last forever. I’ll find out everything you’ve been hiding from Clarissa. Everything.”
Atticus didn’t flinch. He stood there, calm, smiling faintly, though a cold gleam flashed in his eyes. “Then we’ll see who wins. But, Mr. Dorian, if you keep charging in recklessly, I can’t guarantee what happens. The last man who crossed me? He’s lying on my dissection table.”
Dorian’s grip tightened, then suddenly released. He’d learned enough to know Atticus wasn’t bluffing.
Atticus straightened his collar with one hand, smirking. “Mr. Dorian, so worked up over another man’s woman, while your wife rots alone at home. How touching.”
Just as Dorian’s temper boiled over, Atticus added smoothly, “Clarissa’s waiting. I’ll take my leave.”
He turned and walked away without another glance. Dorian’s fists clenched so hard his veins stood out, fury trembling through him.
Back at the car, Atticus slid into the driver’s seat. Clarissa was dressed again, wrapped in his jacket, phone pressed to her ear.
“Mm. Yes, I’ll be there tomorrow,” she said before hanging up.
“Your little secretary?” Atticus asked lightly.
“She’s four years older than you,” Clarissa muttered.
Atticus leaned back, amused. “And yet my mental age beats hers by a mile.”
Clarissa bit back the urge to roll her eyes.
Atticus had already opened the meal box.
“Eat something. I got everything you like.”
Inside was pasta and onion rings, a generous cut of Kobe beef, and half a Boston lobster. The vegetables were broccoli and crisp vegetable pancakes.
He reached into the bag again and pulled out dessert. “I also bought your favorite crab cakes. Come on, just a bite…”
His expression was almost pitiful, like a guilty puppy begging for forgiveness.
Clarissa had actually cooled down a while ago. And truthfully, after the workout he’d just dragged her through, her stomach was growling. But he had gone too far this time, driving so deep she was still sore. Her back ached with every shift of her body. If she didn’t draw a line, he’d never stop pushing until he broke her completely.
So she turned her face away. “Go back to your room tonight. And don’t even think about touching me for the next month.”
He leaned closer, voice low and coaxing. “Clarissa…”
“This isn’t negotiable.” Her tone was sharp, her expression firm.
Atticus knew then that words alone wouldn’t melt her temper. She was truly furious, and nothing he said could smooth it over now. So he surrendered—for the moment. “Alright. But eat before it gets cold. It’s perfect right now.”
Her stomach made the decision for her. Clarissa finally took the food, eating in small, delicate bites.
Atticus hovered at her side, peeling open cartons, pouring drinks, watching over her like she was made of porcelain. He didn’t touch a thing until she was finished, and only then did he polish off her leftovers.
After tossing the trash, he slid behind the wheel and drove them home.