Clarisse didn't expect him to treat her this way. She was stunned for a moment, just about to struggle, but then she remembered the unhidden pain she had seen in his eyes earlier. Even if he didn't say it, even if she didn't know what had happened to him, she could still feel his current unease and torment.
If this could make him happy, if this could ease his suffering, then... she was willing. The vows she had made to save herself for her future husband evaporated with his forceful, domineering kiss.
She reached out and wrapped her arms around his broad back, then gently closed her eyes and slightly parted her red lips to respond to his kiss. Her lips trembled with nervousness, while Jonathan's lips trembled with an accumulation of emotions. Their four lips intertwined, unable to part.
Jonathan felt like he was losing his mind. He knew exactly who was in his arms, yet he couldn't stop himself. Initially, he only wanted to scare her because she wouldn't leave, but he hadn't expected her to comply so meekly. He stroked her slender waist, felt her soft lips, and inhaled her fragrant scent, feeling like his brain had exploded. He lost all reason, and his desire overflowed like a flood that couldn't be contained.
He kicked the door shut, lifted her by the waist, and carried her upstairs in long strides. She nestled in his arms, blushing and trembling like a docile cat. He tossed her onto the big bed and pressed his body onto hers. She was incredibly inexperienced, yet her body responded with honesty.
He kissed her small, rounded chest and caressed her smooth, fair skin. She moaned softly with pleasure, but when his hardness pressed against her softness, trying to enter, she twisted her body in pain, instinctively rejecting his entry. Her large, lust-clouded eyes looked at him pitifully.
"Jonathan, it hurts…"
Her words almost broke him. The pain made him grit his teeth, but seeing her softly cry out in pain left him helpless. He could only angrily pin her to the bed and kiss her deeply, continuing until she was adequately ready. Finally, when he entered her, she still cried from the pain. He patiently guided her, leading her from initial discomfort to ultimate immersion.
He had never liked her type and had never touched her, but now he knew that some things, once touched, became addictive. Knowing she was experiencing this for the first time, he still couldn't help but take her several times until she cried for him to stop, and he finally relented.
The next morning, Clarisse woke up to the pungent smell of smoke. The strong masculine scent beside her reminded her of everything that had happened last night. She lay there with her back to Jonathan, her small face blushing under the covers.
She turned and saw he was already awake, leaning against the headboard and smoking. The swirling smoke obscured his expression. Before she could say anything, he spoke coldly,
"Are you satisfied now? Is your next step to tell your dad what happened last night and make me marry you to take responsibility?"
She clutched the blanket and quickly sat up to defend herself,
"Jonathan, I never thought that way!"
Though she wanted to marry him, bear his children, and spend her life with him, she swore she had never had the thought of using her father to coerce him.
He stubbed out his cigarette and turned to look at her, his eyes full of mockery,
"Then why didn't you refuse when I touched you last night? And why did you enjoy it so much? Or are you saying you deliberately seduced me when I was at my weakest to achieve your goal?"
No girl could endure such mockery after giving herself for the first time. Her grievance filled her eyes with tears,
"I didn't refuse, and I enjoyed it because I love you. I'm willing to give myself to you, not because of any manipulative scheme you're accusing me of!"
"I love someone else. I can't marry you, even if you tell your dad, it won't change anything."
Jonathan took a few deep drags from his cigarette, then stubbed it out in the ashtray on the bedside table. He turned his face and leaned in close to her, lifting her delicate chin with his hand. In her tear-filled eyes, he saw the reflection of his indifferent face as he spoke,
"Actually, you have another choice..."
"What?" she asked, her voice trembling with tears. He gently sucked on her slightly parted, tender lips, then whispered in her ear,
"Be my woman. Stay by my side. Forever... never leave."
Clarisse's tears burst forth uncontrollably, her whole body trembling with anger at his words. He said he wouldn't marry her, and now he wanted her to be his woman, essentially his secret lover?
She didn't say a word, tears streaming down her face as she got out of bed and shakily gathered her scattered clothes, putting them on one by one. Covering her mouth, she rushed out of the room.
Outside, the rain was pouring down. Clarisse didn't go back next door; instead, she ran aimlessly into the rain. Her body was marked with traces from the night before, sore and exhausted, each reminder of the previous night's absurdity. She bitterly mocked herself: "Clarisse, this is the result of your misplaced kindness, you deserve this. You've lost your heart and your dignity!"
After Clarisse left, a flicker of guilt crossed Jonathan's otherwise indifferent face. He hadn't intended to hurt her with those words. When he woke up that morning, he didn't know how to face their relationship, so he said those harsh things, hoping to shatter any illusions she had about him.
He didn't want to get entangled with her; he wanted to return and win back Catherine. Yet, he found himself increasingly entangled with Clarisse.
The rain outside was heavy, so he didn't go out. After showering, he went to his study. His biggest challenge now was learning Spanish. Just as he started reading, a thunderous knocking came from the door. He didn't need to guess; he knew it was Farah from next door.
He went downstairs to open the door. Farah stood there, her voice cold,
"Aren't you a doctor? She's been out in the rain all day, burning with a fever of 104 degrees. She's about to die. Are you going to treat her or not?"
If Bruno hadn't noticed Clarisse sitting on the roadside in the rain and brought her back, she might have died out there.
"How did this happen?" Jonathan was genuinely surprised. He thought she had gone back next door after leaving him, so he hadn't followed her out.
"How did this happen? Don't you know?" Farah was surprisingly calm this time. Perhaps extreme anger had given way to extreme tranquility. She had seen the deep and shallow marks on Clarisse's body while changing her clothes. She knew exactly what they meant.
She was truly disheartened with Clarisse. She wanted to ask her, "Is it worth losing yourself for a man like this?"
Jonathan frowned slightly, went back inside to get his medical kit, and followed Farah next door.