The Last Wish

15. Bargain of the V-card

Tripping and tumbling, Belle dashed out of the bathroom.

"My poor eyes," she said rubbing her eyes fiercely. A little more force would have them protruding out.

She plopped down on the edge of the bed, her hands clenching and unclenching restlessly, for what would come through the bathroom door was not something she'd ever want.

She counted her breaths before Tornado Mattew would hit her.

It didn't take long for him to come, and when he did...he sure did knock the breath out of her. The tornado emerged from the bathroom door, his body blazing hot.

His face was red in anger, as if the juice of pomegranate was smeared all over it.

She stood up quickly, more of fear than respect. Her heart started beating wildly and she gulped.

Except for the small towel wrapped around his waist, serving as a mithe for his private parts, everything else was a free show to her.

Belle openly gaped at Matt, her eyes shamelessly roaming from the top to the bottom.

His midnight black strands stood erect and biased like the waves on a stormy night. His dark eyebrows had the remnants of his grace, but currently they were slope-like and furrowed into a scowl, his well-defined cheekbones protruding with sharp ridges. His prominent jaw was set in a permanent line, like he had forgotten the art of smiling. His nose was a little upturned, as if broken a couple times. Expected.

Muscles dripped from all over his body, nerves surfacing over his taut skin, extending from his neck to his arms. Belle, definitely, didn't find it attractive. His tanned skin made him devilishly handsome, as if he wasn't already. His lean torso was sketched with angry scars, some faded and others ripe.

He was like an ultra perfect painting, not only had he got the handsome physique that every woman desired, but also the truth of his living. The scars, old or new, were proof to her that he had survived hell alone, and she respected him for that.

Alongside the perfect Roman sculpture of a body he possessed, there was something terribly off about him. She couldn't point it, but she could feel it crawling under her skin.

Her eyes flickered back to the one place she reserved for later. His eyes. She could almost feel his steel eyes cutting razors into her soul. His gaze intensified as if preparing for something dark and evil. She moistened her lips, anxious.

"Like what you see?" he said. That moment, Belle realized one dang thing. If anyone could sprout sarcasm with a straight face, that would undeniably be Matt.

"Look I can explain," she started. "This is a misunderstanding."

"Enlighten me since I have the time of my life," he said sarcastically and crossed his arms.

She ignored his sarcasm and continued. "I--," she stopped abruptly realising she had no proper reason. No one would believe that she had a Mario adventure in the lift.

"If you got nothing to say, the door is to your left."

"You sound like a girl telling the guy off in the movies," she muttered.

"What?" he asked irated.

"Right," she said with a smile. Looking at the invisible question mark on the emotionless face of Matt, she decided to give him the extended description. "You meant right. The door is to my right, right?"

"No shit Sherlock, the door is to your bloody right and off you go now," he said with a glum face.

"I-I can't," she stuttered with an unspoken urgency. After the lift incident, she hadn't the strength to fight off anymore guards.