Chapter 3

Philip's ice-cold warning hit Catherine like a physical blow, sending chills through her fingertips.

She knew perfectly well that Philip was not making empty threats.

The coldness in his eyes and the lethal undertone in his voice reminded her just how dangerous and ruthless this man truly was.

"Not even ashes remained..."

Catherine's heart pounded violently against her ribcage, a chill creeping up her spine.

She knew every word he spoke was true—he was absolutely capable of following through.

Yet, her fear lasted only a moment.

In the next instant, a deeper resolve surged from within her.

She had no path of retreat.

From the moment she'd embarked on this journey, there was no turning back.

Whether it was James or this dangerous and powerful Philip before her, they were both fortresses she had to conquer.

Retreat? That would mean all her efforts wasted, it would mean utter ruin.

Catherine slowly turned her head back toward him, her beautiful emerald eyes flickering with complex emotions in the dim light—shock, fear, and a resolute determination all intertwined.

She seemed not to have heard his warning, or perhaps she deliberately trampled it underfoot.

"Mr. Foster, I don't understand what you're talking about." Her voice carried a barely perceptible tremor, her gaze filled with seductive allure. Her slender legs brushed lightly against Philip's, the warmth of her body transferring through the thin fabric.

"It's so late, and it's dark outside. Would you mind escorting me upstairs?"

Her cherry-red lips parted slightly, her intoxicating breath caressing his earlobe, his neck.

Philip's gaze suddenly darkened.

His eyes grew even more unfathomable than when he had warned her, depths impossibly dark.

He could feel the slight trembling of her body—not purely seduction, but a kind of...

Desperate courage born of fear.

A powerful, unfamiliar heat surged through his body, spreading with wildfire intensity to his limbs, almost breaking through his vaunted self-control.

The feeling was foreign and fierce, making him uncomfortable with its hint of lost control.

He had always been cold as ice toward any woman who deliberately approached him, even feeling a physiological aversion.

His world consisted only of cold rules and absolute control—desire was something that had never truly ignited within him.

Now, as he faced Catherine, who appeared fragile but was undeniably scheming and exuded a contradictory yet lethal aura, the desire dormant for thirty years suddenly surged forth.

Philip narrowed his eyes, dangerous light flashing in their depths as he grabbed her mischievous hand and gripped it tightly.

He forcefully suppressed the strange torrent within him, and his voice, hoarse and unrecognizable, emerged. "Are you certain?"

Catherine keenly detected that slight change in his voice, and the fear in her heart was instantly replaced by an almost manic excitement.

He seemed affected!

She arched an eyebrow slightly, her voice laced with deeper seduction. "Yes! Doesn't Mr. Foster want to keep little Cathy company? I'm really scared."

Her tone grew increasingly suggestive as she deliberately pressed her chest against Philip's arm.

Catherine's neckline was already extremely low, and with this movement, her smooth flesh nearly escaped its confines, exposing most of her breasts.

The pristine, silky skin revealed even a hint of rosy pink.

The warm air from the car's heating system washed over them, and Philip felt his blood rushing to one particular place. He extended his hand to grip Catherine's rounded shoulder, his voice rough. "I'll take you up."

This motion carried obvious resistance, even a hint of panic.

But Catherine clearly felt it—he was aroused!

This realization made her tremble with excitement and the wild joy that came after staking everything.

With that, he almost hastily pushed open the car door, stepping out with his long, straight legs into the building.

Catherine watched his tall but slightly hurried figure, a smile of assured victory playing on her lips.

She pushed open her door and followed him inside.

As soon as she entered, Catherine was suddenly pressed against the entryway door by Philip, his strong body pressing tightly against her, trapping her between the door panel and his chest.

Her voluptuous breasts heaved dramatically from the sudden compression, pressed firmly against his hard chest.

Catherine's heart raced, her fair face now flushed with arousal, her eyes misty as water, her slightly parted lips exuding an irresistible sensuality.

She breathed heavily, looking up at Philip's handsome, aristocratic face at close range, her heart pounding wildly in her chest.

Philip's features were sharply defined, his nose straight, his lips pressed into a hard line, radiating aggression.

Complex emotions churned in his deep-set eyes.

He typically had no fondness for women who flaunted their sexuality like her, yet somehow, with her, he couldn't seem to maintain his control.

He despised this feeling of losing control!

Catherine couldn't help but tremble inside.

Though she had deliberately provoked him first, when Philip's intimidating physique pressed so closely against hers, Catherine still felt incredibly nervous, even struggling to breathe.

But thinking of her purpose, Catherine took a deep breath, summoning her courage to rise on tiptoe and actively kiss his tightly pressed lips.

Philip's body suddenly stiffened, his Adam's apple involuntarily bobbing, his eyes reflecting disgust and struggle.

But almost simultaneously, he responded instinctively. One hand gripped her impossibly slender waist, while the other forcefully cradled the back of her head. With punishing strength, he pried open her teeth as he deepened the kiss.

His kiss began with a punishing roughness, yet upon contact with her soft lips and tongue, unconsciously transformed into gentle, rolling suction.

They kissed passionately, the air filled only with the intimate sounds of their entwined lips and tongues.

Catherine's arousal evident in the wetness between her thighs as she pressed closer.

Only when Philip abruptly released Catherine could she gasp for breath, her entire body so weak she could barely stand.

Philip looked down at her, his gaze as dark and bottomless as a cold pond.

He sneered, "You've got extraordinary courage. Using your body as a weapon—how does it feel to play with fire?"

Catherine looked up at him, her eyes brimming with seduction.

She tilted her head slightly and gasped breathily. "Isn't it exciting? Mr. Foster."

She deliberately dragged out the word "Mr. Foster," making it soft and lengthy, like a hook, her eyes provocatively meeting the coldness in his.

As she spoke, she extended her pink tongue, lazily yet deliberately licking her slightly swollen lips, as if savoring the taste of their kiss.

Philip's eyes darkened sharply, his voice ice-cold yet suppressing some dangerous force on the verge of explosion. "Whatever you're planning, now, you can't escape."

With this declaration, Philip grasped her neck and pulled her toward him, claiming her lips once more.

As their lips parted, he felt the warmth of her breath and the softness of her inner lips, sweet and inviting.

Amid the deep kisses and suction, Philip's scalp tingled, the overwhelming fragrance spreading from his tongue, driving him to delve deeper into her mouth.

So deep, so intense—Catherine felt as if her very soul was being drawn out.

She was much shorter than him, and his hand at the nape of her neck forced her to tilt her head back, mouth wide open, tongue against tongue, nose against nose.

Their lips and tongues entangled chaotically, the intensity too much for her to bear, nearly slipping down several times.

Each time, Philip would pull her back up, his hand unzipping her dress and slipping inside the fabric.

Philip's palm was hot and dry, his fingertips bearing slight calluses that roamed freely across her back.

Her entire body shuddered as if electrified, her nose emitting soft, delicate moans as their bodies pressed together, waves of heat flooding Catherine's lower abdomen.

She was complelely wet.

In the darkness, only the sound of her dress falling to the floor could be heard, followed by her bra.

When her breasts were seized in his palm, she couldn't suppress a cry.

So hot, so intense—as he kneaded her, her entire body felt like it was melting.

Philip pressed his lips to her neck, then traced them over her collarbone and lower still, until he enveloped the tip of her breast.