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Episode 10: The Woman Beside Me
Forced Marriage: I Hate That I Love You
By Zorry Sunblaze
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The couple finally arrived home.
But something felt… off.
The house was unusually quiet, the kind of silence that made the hair on your arms stand. No lights. No laughter. No pitter-patter of little feet. I wasn't the only one who noticed it—Yin's expression dropped the moment she stepped in. The air felt thick with something unspoken.
I vanished in a blink, slinking through the halls, checking for anything—anything at all—that would explain the silence. Where were the kids?
She turned to him, worry flickering in her soft voice.
"Husband—"
But he cut her off, calmly, eyes fixed only on her.
"They're with my mom. It's the weekend tomorrow. They should spend time with Granny."
Mm. Smooth move. His gaze didn't leave her even for a second, and I couldn't help the sly grin that curled on my lips. Something was about to go down between those two.
"But Ran is still a baby… can your mom really handle her?"
He didn't flinch. Just replied,
"Yes."
And before she could say another word, he scooped her right off the floor, bridal-style, and carried her straight to the bedroom like she weighed nothing at all.
Oh, this man had plans.
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Meanwhile... at Yanji's place.
It had been a while since I saw Nan. My sweet, stubborn Nan. She looked tired as hell when she walked through the door—girl had clearly been working too hard—but even then, she still looked fine.
She didn't waste time. Headed straight to the shower, and when she emerged, whew... she was a vision. Damp hair, dewy skin, no makeup, just that effortless glow that only real women have. She grabbed a black shirt from his wardrobe—his shirt—and slipped into it. Long enough to cover her thighs, but she was clearly wearing nothing underneath. I repeat: nothing.
Apparently, she'd washed her underwear. But listen, that wasn't the point.
She dropped down onto the rug, laptop on her knees, glasses perched on her nose, hair twisted into a messy bun, and a fresh cup of coffee steaming beside her. Just like that, she looked like every man's fantasy: beauty, brains, and no panties.
The room was dim, lit only by her laptop screen. Her fingers danced across the keyboard, tapping away with laser focus.
By the way, did I mention she's now working with the Dong Group? Yep. Big girl moves.
Then—click—the door opened.
A tall, broad figure appeared, dark eyes landing right on her. He didn't say anything at first. Just stood there… watching her like he always did. That man could write a whole poetry book with the way he looked at her.
"When did you get here?" he asked, kicking off his shoes and stepping toward her.
"About an hour ago," she replied, still typing away.
But he wasn't going to let her finish anything tonight.
He knelt in front of her, gently closed the laptop, and slid it away.
"I thought you said you'd never come here again," he said, voice low, teasing, eyes locked on hers. "Yet here you are—in my shirt, with nothing underneath… trying to seduce me?"
His hand caressed the side of her neck, warm and slow. She shivered.
"I wasn't trying—"
But he didn't let her finish either. His thumb brushed over her bottom lip.
"Mm-hmm," he hummed, then leaned in and kissed her.
It started out soft, but deepened fast.
His hands slid under the hem of the shirt, finding nothing but smooth skin beneath. She gasped against his mouth as he lifted her slightly, laying her gently on the rug. Her thighs parted instinctively when his hands explored her, one cupping her breast, the other trailing down to her waist.
She tried to push him off half-heartedly.
"I have work—"
"You came here to work?" he chuckled, nipping at her jaw, then trailing kisses down her neck. "Wearing this?"
His tongue traced her collarbone, and her back arched into him. Her fingers found his hair, gripping when he pulled her shirt up with one hand and took her nipple into his mouth. She moaned, low and needy.
He took his time.
Tongue, teeth, lips—all over her. His hands parted her thighs, and when he found her already wet, he groaned against her skin.
"Damn… you've missed me," he whispered.
And then he slid two fingers inside her—slow, deep, and deliciously cruel. She gasped, her hips bucking. He kissed her again, swallowing every whimper.
"Let me hear you," he said, voice husky, grinding against her while his fingers moved inside her with growing rhythm.
She arched, clutching his shoulders as waves of pleasure rippled through her.
He didn't stop until she came undone—trembling beneath him, eyes half-lidded, lips parted.
"I hate you," she whispered breathlessly.
"Liar," he smirked, lifting her onto his lap and unbuckling his belt.
Oh, she was trembling—and not just from the aftershocks of pleasure. It was that raw, burning anticipation. That helpless surrender only he could pull from her.
Her arms wrapped around his neck, legs parted over his thighs as he slid his slacks down. She felt him—hard, warm, heavy—pressing against her. But he didn't rush. No, not this man. He wanted her to beg.
"You shouldn't be here," he murmured against her collarbone. "You shouldn't trust me…"
Her hips rolled forward in answer.
"I don't," she breathed. "But I keep ending up in your bed."
"Because your body remembers mine," he said, dragging his lips down her throat. "Even when your heart won't admit it."
And then—finally—he slid inside her.
Slow. Deep. All of him.
She gasped, clutching his shoulders like she was drowning and he was the only thing anchoring her to earth. Her head fell back. He took the chance to kiss down her chest, tongue tracing every inch he could reach, hips thrusting upward with that maddening rhythm he'd perfected.
She tried to stay quiet. She really did.
But when he whispered, "Tell me how much you missed me," she broke.
"Too much," she confessed, the words slipping out between moans.
God, the way he moved inside her—so deep, so full, so hot—it was like every part of her was made just to take him in.
His hand grabbed her jaw, making her look him in the eye.
"Say it again."
"I missed you," she whispered.
"Louder."
"I missed you!" she cried, just as he thrust harder, her voice shattering into a moan that echoed through the dim room.
He didn't let up.
He fucked her like he owned every inch of her body—like no other man had touched her, like no other ever would. And judging by how she sobbed his name into his ear, maybe he was right.
When she finally came again, it was loud, raw, her body clinging to his like she'd fall apart without him.
Only then did he let go, groaning her name into the crook of her neck as he spilled inside her, hips stuttering as pleasure took over.
They collapsed in a heap on the rug, sweaty, tangled, breathless.
For a while, they said nothing. Just listened to the hum of the night, the buzz of unsaid things between them.
Then she spoke, voice barely a whisper.
"You make everything complicated."
He chuckled, brushing her damp hair off her cheek.
"Love isn't supposed to be easy, Nan. Especially not for people like us."
Her lips twitched into a small, sad smile. "People like us?"
"Too proud to ask for help. Too stubborn to let go. Too damn in love to walk away."
Her heart clenched. Because damn it… he wasn't wrong.
She should've never come back. But here she was again—naked, full of him, wrapped in his arms like she belonged there.
Maybe she did.
Just for tonight.
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Meanwhile… back at Dong Jinye's mansion.
The bedroom door clicked shut.
Yin stood awkwardly, feet still dangling as he laid her gently on the bed. The tension was thick. Not anger… not exactly desire either.
Something quieter.
He hovered above her, one arm propped beside her head. Eyes like storm clouds, staring deep into hers.
"You're tired," he said. Not a question. A statement.
She nodded slowly, lips parting to speak, but he silenced her by gently pressing his thumb to them.
"You don't need to say anything."
And then, to everyone's surprise—including mine—he knelt at the foot of the bed and began unbuckling her shoes.
Slowly.
Gently.
One by one.
Then he placed them aside, stood up, and disappeared into the closet for a moment before returning with her favorite oversized silk nightgown—the one she thought she lost weeks ago.
He handed it to her.
She took it, fingers trembling a bit.
"Get changed," he murmured. "I'll draw you a bath."
I blinked. Was this the same Dong Jinye I'd seen slam a boardroom with just his stare?
Yin just stared at him too—eyes soft, searching, as if seeing him all over again.
Maybe she was.
Maybe he wanted to be seen.
And maybe, just maybe, tonight wasn't about sex. Maybe it was about finally learning to love… the right way.
But that's none of my business.
At least, not yet.