She Was the Treasure All Along novel Chapter 1001

Helena leaned heavily against Morris, his arm wrapped firmly around her as he half-carried her forward. Her steps were unsteady, and the steady rhythm of his breathing was loud in her ear.

She was just about to ask where his car was when her gaze snagged on a familiar white sedan up ahead.

She recognized it instantly. It was Swain's car.

The back window was rolled halfway down. Inside, she could clearly see two silhouettes tangled together. Someone was gripping the back of the front passenger seat, arching their back, while the other leaned into the leather upholstery, groaning. The heavy pants and wet sounds echoed out from the cracked window, sickeningly loud in the dead silence of the underground garage.

Helena sobered up almost instantly. Through the glass, she saw Molly's long, wavy hair draped over Swain's shoulders. She saw Swain's hands gripping Molly's hips as they hooked up in the backseat.

Morris stood perfectly still beside her, his hand still resting on her shoulder. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"Nothing. Let's go," she replied.

The corner of Morris's mouth curved up. He opened the passenger door of his sleek luxury car and guided her inside.

The sudden roar of a high-performance engine startled Swain out of his trance. He looked up, panicked, glancing out the window just in time to see the luxury vehicle glide past. The silhouettes inside looked familiar, yet frustratingly blurry.

Helena was brought back to Morris's sprawling villa.

The moment she stepped through the foyer, she kicked off her heels, spun around, and grabbed the tie of the man who had just walked in behind her, yanking him down to her eye level.

"Do you want to have sex?" Helena asked bluntly.

Morris went completely still for a second. "That's a bit sudden, isn't it?"

"Isn't this exactly what you wanted?" Helena locked eyes with him. "You made sure I saw them."

She wasn't stupid. The alcohol had burned off enough for her brain to connect the dots. She knew he had orchestrated the entire thing.

Morris narrowed his eyes slightly. "Did I?"

Morris laid her back onto the mattress, his palm cushioning her head as it hit the pillows. Helena refused to let go of his neck, using her weight to pull him down with her. They sank deep into the plush mattress, their chests pressed flush against each other, breaths mingling in a heated haze of alcohol and his crisp, woodsy cologne.

He propped himself up slightly to look down at her. The ambient light cast sharp shadows over his brow bone. Those usually frigid, calculating eyes were ablaze with something entirely uncharacteristic—not the smug satisfaction of a hunter claiming his prize, but a raw, starving desperation that had been caged for far too long.

Morris lowered his head and kissed her fiercely, his teeth grazing her bottom lip. When she gasped at the slight sting, his tongue swept in, claiming her entirely.

Helena's fingers tangled in the short hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him closer, while her other hand fumbled urgently with the buttons of his dress shirt. She was clumsy with haste, ripping the first two open before getting stuck on the third.

Morris pulled back just an inch, deftly undoing the rest of the buttons himself, before taking her hand and pressing it flat against his bare, hard chest.

"Don't rush," he rasped, a dark, low chuckle vibrating in his throat. "I'm all yours."

"You talk too much." Helena hooked a leg around his waist, pulling his hips flush against hers. As her knee brushed his side, she felt his entire body instantly lock up. The amusement vanished from his eyes, replaced by an intoxicating, predatory darkness.