Chapter7
She didn’t know what she was doing. She just followed instinct. Her lips lingered, her tongue gently traced the skin.
Waylon’s jaw clenched, his entire frame tensing. He grabbed her chin, forcing her to look up at him.
“Woman,” he said coldly. “Look at me. See who I am.”
Mona blinked, her vision slowly sharpening. His face came into focus- sharp, elegant, devastatingly handsome. Regal and remote, like a sculpture carved from ice.
Memories flickered. Snow. A luxury car. The man who picked her up the day she was released from prison.
“You’re. the man from the car.
Before she could finish, Waylon scooped her up effortlessly and strode into his private suite.
With a kick, the door shut behind them. He laid her down on the bed,
“What’s that scent on you?” Waylon asked.
It was intoxicating. The moment Waylon caught a whiff of it, the pain that had been ravaging his body started to ease.
He leaned down, his nose brushing lightly from the curve of her lips to her chin, then tracing a path down her neck–finally pausing at the soft swell of her chest.
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“Is it coming from here?” he murmured, eyes fixed on her breasts.
Wherever his nose grazed, Mona felt like she’d been struck by lightning. Her entire body trembled with sensitivity.
All her senses were focused on his touch. She couldn’t even process what he was saying.
Dazed, she murmured, “What.?”
Suddenly, Waylon grabbed the front of her shirt and yanked hard.
Rip. The buttons burst apart with a sharp sound, scattering across the floor.
Her shirt fell open, and her full, round breasts bounced slightly from the force of the motion. Milky white liquid began to bead at the tips.
It was a stunning, almost surreal sight.
Waylon’s eyes lingered for a few seconds before instinct kicked in. He leaned down and pressed his lips to the source of that scent.
Mona had never experienced anything like it.
Her mind exploded into a haze of white noise–completely blank. It felt like he was drawing the breath right from her soul.
She clung to his head, trembling and lost, whispering, “Sir. ah.”
Her voice, soft and trembling, was like honey dripping in the dark–sweet, helpless, dangerously seductive.
After a moment, Waylon lifted his head.
His eyes were clear.
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The pain that had nearly driven him mad had vanished. His mind wast sharper than it had been in weeks. His body no longer felt like it was falling apart.
Beneath him, Mona was still in a haze, clearly not satisfied. She wrapped her legs around his waist, her voice low and pleading.
“Sir. more.”
Without a word, he picked her up and carried her into the bathroom.
He gently placed her into the tub and turned the shower on, letting cold water pour over her.
Mona gasped as the icy water drenched her from head to toe. The shock. sent shivers through her, but it also began to clear the fog in her mind.
She blinked up at him, dazed, her lips slightly parted.
Waylon stood at the edge of the tub, still dressed in his impeccable suit. The calm in his expression had returned–cold and composed.
“The drug will wear off. Don’t come out until it does.”
With that, he turned and walked out, leaving the door open behind him.
Mona sat in the tub, stunned, replaying the past few minutes in her head.
Her face flushed with embarrassment so hot she thought it might boil the water around her.
She had a secret.
Ever since the car accident three years ago, her body had changed. She’d never been pregnant, but somehow, she began producing milk.
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And just now. she had fed it to a grown man.
God. She covered her burning face with her hands.
She wanted to vanish into the floor. She’d never be able to look anyone in the eye again.
She sat in the cold water for what felt like forever, waiting for her body to cool and her thoughts to settle.
Only when she was sure she could think clearly did she step out, dry off, and get dressed.
When she returned to the suite, Waylon was seated on the couch, sunlight pouring through the floor–to–ceiling windows behind him. He looked effortlessly elegant–almost unreal.
“Sir,” she said softly.
He looked up. “My name is Waylon Haley.”
“Mr. Haley,” she corrected, a bit flustered.
“I’m looking for a wet nurse,” he said calmly. “Would you be willing to consider the job?”
His condition was worsening with each flare–up. Every time, it pushed him closer to the edge.
But this time, after tasting her milk, he’d recovered instantly.
He was beginning to piece it together.
The car crash three years ago–something must’ve gone wrong with the experimental drug. It likely couldn’t be
preserved, so the researchers injected it directly into a living host.
