Chapter 3

Philip's icy warning sent a chill through Catherine's fingertips.

She understood perfectly well that his words weren't empty threats. The coldness in his eyes made her realize just how dangerous, how ruthless this man could be. She knew every word he spoke was true—he absolutely had the power to follow through.

Yet her fear lasted only a moment.

The next second, a deeper resolve welled up from within her. There was no turning back now. From the moment she had returned, there had been no path of retreat. Whether it was James or this dangerous and powerful Philip before her, they were fortresses she had to conquer.

Retreat? That would mean all her efforts had been in vain, completely destroyed.

Catherine slowly turned her head, her beautiful eyes flickering with complex emotions in the dim light. She seemed not to have heard his warning.

"Mr. Foster, I don't understand what you're talking about," she said, her voice trembling slightly, her gaze full of seduction. Her slender legs brushed lightly against Philip's, her body heat transferring through the thin fabric.

"It's so late, and it's dark outside. Would you escort me upstairs?" Her cherry-red lips parted slightly, her intoxicating breath caressing his earlobe, his neck.

Philip's gaze instantly darkened.

His eyes became even more unfathomable than when he'd warned her, infinitely dark. He could feel the slight trembling of her body—not purely seduction, but a desperate courage born of fear.

A powerful, unfamiliar heat surged through his entire body, spreading like wildfire to his limbs, nearly breaking through his vaunted self-control. This feeling was strange and intense, making him uncomfortable, giving him a sense of losing control.

He had always been ice-cold toward any woman who actively approached him, even feeling physical disgust. His world consisted only of cold rules and absolute control—desire had never truly ignited within him.

Now, facing Catherine, who appeared fragile yet was deeply calculating, the carnal desires that had slept for thirty years suddenly awakened.

Philip narrowed his eyes, a dangerous light flashing in their depths as he grabbed her playful little hand, gripping it tightly. He forcibly suppressed that strange torrent within him, his voice hoarse and barely recognizable: "Are you sure?"

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

He seemed affected!

She raised an eyebrow slightly, her tone carrying deeper seduction: "Yes! Doesn't Mr. Foster want to accompany little Catherine? I'm really afraid."

Her tone became increasingly provocative as she deliberately pressed her chest against Philip's arm.

Catherine's neckline was already low, and with this movement, her smooth skin nearly escaped the confines of her collar, exposing most of her breasts.

The warm air blew through the car interior, and Philip felt all his blood rushing to one place. He reached out, gripping Catherine's rounded shoulders, his voice husky. "I'll take you up."

This action carried obvious reluctance, even a hint of panic.

But Catherine clearly sensed it—he was aroused!

This realization thrilled her, making her body tremble, immersed in the wild joy that followed her all-or-nothing gamble.

After speaking, he almost hurriedly pushed open the car door and strode into the building on his long, straight legs.

Catherine watched his tall but slightly hurried figure, a victorious smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

She pushed open the door and followed him inside.

Catherine was suddenly pressed against the entrance door by Philip, his strong body pressing tightly against hers, trapping her between the door panel and his chest.

Her full breasts rose and fell violently from the sudden compression, pressing firmly against his hard chest.

Catherine's heart raced, her fair face flushing with excitement, her eyes misty like water, her slightly parted lips exuding an irresistible sensuality.

Breathing heavily, she looked up at Philip's handsome aristocratic face from close range, her heart pounding wildly.

Philip's features were sharply defined, his nose straight, as beautiful as a Greek god.

In his deep eyes, complex emotions surged.

He usually disliked women who flaunted their sexuality like her, but somehow, with her, he seemed unable to maintain his composure.

He hated this feeling of losing control!

Catherine couldn't help but tremble inside.

Although she had deliberately seduced him first, when Philip's burning body pressed so close to hers, Catherine still felt incredibly nervous, even finding it difficult to breathe.

But thinking of her purpose, Catherine took a deep breath, summoned her courage, stood on tiptoe, and actively kissed his tightly closed lips.

Philip's body suddenly stiffened, his Adam's apple involuntarily moving up and down, his eyes full of struggle.

But almost simultaneously, he reacted instinctively. One hand grabbed her slender waist, the other forcefully supporting the back of her head. With punishing force, he pried open her teeth, deepening the kiss.

His kiss was rough at first, but when he touched her soft lips and tongue, it unconsciously transformed into gentle suction.

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

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

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

He sneered, "You're very brave, using your body as a weapon. How does it feel to play with fire?"

Catherine looked up at him, her eyes full of temptation.

She tilted her head slightly, panting as she said, "Isn't it exciting, Mr. Foster?"

She deliberately dragged out the words "Mr. Foster," making them long and soft, like a hook.

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

Philip's eyes suddenly darkened: "Whatever you're planning to do now, you won't escape."

After saying this, Philip grabbed her neck, pulled her toward him, and kissed her lips again.

She was much shorter than him; he grasped the back of her neck, forcing her to tilt her head back, their lips and tongues entangling chaotically, the force so great she could barely withstand it, nearly slipping several times.

Each time, Philip would pull her up, his hand unzipping her dress, slipping inside.

Philip's palm was hot and dry, with thin calluses on his fingertips, gently caressing her back.

Her entire body trembled as if electrified, her nose emitting soft, delicate moans. Their bodies pressed together, waves of heat surging through Catherine's lower abdomen.

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

When her breasts were grasped in his hand, she couldn't suppress a moan.

So hot, so intense—when he kneaded her, she felt her entire body melting.

Philip pressed his lips to her neck, then moved downward along her collarbone, until he enveloped her nipple.