Faux Vows, True Desires

Chapter 437

When they got to the more intimate moments, Owen found himself craving more than just kisses. But he'd promised her that he wouldn't force anything upon her.

If he wanted to truly indulge, he knew he had to put a ring on her finger first. That way, enjoying the pleasures would be justified, a matter of marital right.

Owen had just sealed a lucrative deal with Mr. Spencer, and both parties were over the moon. Celebration was in order, and it led to a few too many drinks.

Owen had intended to be Cecilia's knight in shining armor, ready to intercept any unwanted alcohol. But with spirits high, he'd let his guard down. By the time he remembered his chivalrous plan, Cecilia had already had her fair share of drinks.

He could kick himself.

Both Lucinda and Cecilia had warned him not to let her get drunk.

Seeing her blush like a boiled shrimp and her eyes getting all blurry, it'd be strange if she wasn't drunk.

Mr. Spencer, meanwhile, was being propped up by his secretary, clearly having overindulged himself. Walter, ever the considerate host, suggested that Mr. Spencer stay at the hotel overnight. As a valued client of the Ikella group, it was only right that he be treated with the utmost hospitality at the Pinehurst Hotel.

The secretary, seeing his boss in such a state, agreed to Walter's suggestion, deciding a night's stay was better than trekking back home in that condition.

Soon, the presidential suite was cleared out, leaving only Owen and Cecilia.

"Cecilia," Owen said gently, gauging her mood with care. "You alright there?"

Cecilia's response was a wide grin followed by a hearty, boisterous laugh.

Owen blinked in surprise. Did she laugh heartily when she was drunk?

The next thing he knew, her hands were all over his face, pinching, twisting, and generally having a field day with his features.

"So it's real," she mumbled, apparently convinced she was dreaming.

"Hey, handsome," she slurred, puckering her lips. "What's your name? How old are you? Got a wife yet? Come on, give me a smooch."

Owen was flabbergasted.

Here was Cecilia, not recognizing him and shamelessly flirting with him.

Not only did she envelop him in kisses, but her hands were also all over him, with the unmistakable intent of undressing him.

"Cecilia, you're drunk," Owen struggled to maintain his composure, not wanting to take advantage of her when she was drunk.

He pried her hands off him, chuckling wryly, "No wonder you said you were a terrible drunk, hitting on men like this. Lucky it's just me. If it were anyone else, you'd be crying with regret tomorrow morning." Original from NôvelDrama.Org.

"Handsome, come on. I'll pay you—a hundred bucks for a kiss."

Owen, barely holding back laughter, scooped her up and carried her into the bedroom.

One thing was certain.

Even when drunk and offering money, she was stingy!

A hundred bucks for a kiss, he thought. She'd have to kiss his entire body to make it worthwhile, and even then, it wouldn't be much.

Such a lowball offer!

"Too little for you? How about a hundred and one? That's top dollar, come on, just one kiss."

Owen laid Cecilia on the bed, and the moment her hands were free, they were back around his neck, pulling him down to her, lips puckered for a kiss.

"Cecilia, you're drunk."

Owen tried to fend her off, blocking her lips with his hand.

"I'm not drunk. Wow, you've got a great body. Let's see those abs."

Cecilia tried to undress him, her drunken strength and blurred vision making it a clumsy effort. Eventually, she managed to undo a single button on his shirt.

Cecilia, in a fit of frustration, grabbed both sides of his shirt and tore it open, buttons scattering everywhere.

"Wow! Look at those muscles! Hot stuff!"

Owen gritted his teeth and growled, "Cecilia, stop pushing me!"

His patience had its limits!

But Cecilia wasn't listening. She loved to flirt with men when she was drunk.

She had warned Owen about this—never to let her drink too much.

Now, all she saw was the muscular figure before her. She found it very appealing, and as she was about to dive in for a taste, her stomach rebelled, and the next thing Owen knew, he was covered in the contents of her stomach.

Cecilia!

In a flash, Owen flipped her over and dashed to the bathroom.

After cleaning up, he returned to find the instigator of his troubles fast asleep, with a part of the bed soiled by her mishap.

What a night!

Resigned, Owen undressed her out of her soiled evening gown, placed her on the couch, and then ripped off the dirty sheets.

Then he put on new sheets and laid her back in bed.

At least she didn't cause any more trouble once she was asleep.

Owen lay beside her, still clothed, looking at her alluring form under the covers—her gown had been removed, and he didn't have any spare clothes for her.

Gazing at the sleeping beauty, he affectionately pinched her lips and whispered, "You're such a little troublemaker. I won't let you get drunk again, unless..."

After the wedding.

Maybe then, for a little excitement, he could let her get a little drunk.

For Owen, it was a long, sleepless night.

He tossed and turned, resisting the urge to reach out to Cecilia time and again.

He had promised not to pressure her, and although taking advantage now wouldn't exactly be forcing her, it still felt like taking advantage.

So he endured, showering in cold water twice before finally falling asleep just before dawn.

Cecilia slept until the sun was high in the sky. When she woke up and saw the unfamiliar room, she was momentarily confused. Then the events of the previous evening came crashing back to her.

She had been out with Owen, celebrating his business success. They drank heavily, and she got drunk.

Oh no!

Cecilia sat up abruptly, the covers slipping down. She quickly snatched them back up and saw Owen lying beside her, thankfully fully clothed.

Knowing that she would mess up when drunk, Cecilia couldn't relax even seeing Owen's clothes. She nudged him beside her with her foot.

"Mr. Malicious, wake up!"

Owen had barely clocked in a few hours of sleep when he felt a sharp nudge that yanked him from his dreams. Irritation bubbled up until his eyes snapped open and saw Cecilia’s familiar face. His annoyance instantly dissolved into a helpless sigh. He reached out, intending to pull her back to bed, and mumbled, “Cecilia, it’s still early. Let’s catch some more z’s.”

“Mr. Malicious, hold on. What exactly happened last night? Did we... you know? Did I overstep?”

As the sleep fog lifted from Owen’s mind, he gave her a pitiful puppy-dog look and said, “Cecilia, you turned into quite the firecracker after you were drunk. You were all over me, showering me with compliments, saying I was a hunk, planting kisses, and going on about my six-pack being on point. You tell me, under those circumstances, was there anything we couldn’t have done?”

Cecilia’s cheeks blazed with heat.

She had actually taken advantage of Owen when she was drunk!

And she couldn’t remember a darn thing!

Did she get the short end of the stick here?