Evil MC's NTR Harem - Chapter 655

Chapter 655: Chapter 655 Lion
“Hmmmmm…” The kiss deepened with an intensity that made the air around them vanish.

Sasha was lost in the pull of Ross Oakley—his lips, his scent, the confidence that clung to him like a second skin.

His hands finally went wild, slipping from the elegant curve of her waist down to her hips, and then lower, boldly cupping the soft swell of her ass like he owned it.

She gasped into his mouth, but didn’t pull away.

Then his long middle finger pressed upward, applying slow, calculated pressure against the thin fabric of her dress—right between her legs.

It wasn’t enough to breach anything, but it was more than enough to send a sharp jolt of pleasure racing through her cunt.

She tensed, heat flooding her body like wildfire. Her knees weakened. Her breath hitched.

“Ahhh… stop,” she gasped, finally breaking the kiss.

Her hand pressed firmly to his chest, fingers splayed over the expensive fabric of his suit jacket.

The tension in her eyes was unmistakable—desire warring with reason.

Ross didn’t argue.

He stepped back slightly, his lips still parted, his breathing heavy, but his hands fell away without protest.

He stared at her for a beat too long, something wicked and amused dancing in his eyes.

Then, unexpectedly, he leaned in once more—not for another kiss filled with heat, but something slower, softer.

One final brush of his lips against hers. This time, he tasted like restraint.

He pulled her into a hug—close, enveloping, secure.

His arms around her no longer groped or teased.

He just held her, as if to say I could have gone further… but I didn’t.

They stayed like that for a while, swaying lightly on the dance floor.

The music pulsed around them, the club still alive with lights and sound, but Sasha felt like she had been transported somewhere else entirely.

In Ross’s arms, everything was muted, distant. The world faded away.

He didn’t touch her inappropriately again. He didn’t whisper anything crude or sultry.

He simply danced with her—confident, composed, enigmatic.

And somehow, that self-control only made him more dangerous.

By the time they left the club, Sasha’s head was spinning.

Not from alcohol—she’d barely drunk anything.

No, it was him. The way he moved, the way he knew exactly when to push and when to pull back.

She hated how much she admired that about him.

Outside, the air was crisp. A breeze tugged at her hair and cooled her flushed skin.

Ross walked her to her car with a calm swagger, unhurried, as though he owned the night.

“Let me know when you’re free,” he said quietly as the driver opened the back door of her car. “I’d like to go out again sometime.”

His words were casual, but they left a lingering promise—like a hook carefully placed under her skin.

She looked at him, trying to figure out if there was a catch. But Ross Oakley didn’t plead.

He didn’t chase. He invited, then waited.

She didn’t respond right away.

She just stared at him, lips parted slightly, caught somewhere between amusement and intrigue.

A small smile curved her mouth as she finally nodded, slipping into the back seat of her car without a word.

Her driver shut the door behind her with a soft click, and the luxury vehicle glided forward into the night.

Behind them, her bodyguards followed closely, always alert, always watching.

She leaned her head back against the seat, staring at the ceiling as city lights streamed past the windows.

Ross stood at the curb with his hands in his pockets, the faint glow from the club lights casting shadows across his face.

He watched her car disappear down the boulevard and didn’t move until it was out of sight.

He didn’t need to.

Because he knew—she’d think about him tonight. And tomorrow. And the next day.

And eventually… she’d come back

***

One day passed.

Then two.

Sasha tried to pretend she wasn’t expecting anything.

She told herself she was too busy to care, too independent to be the type of woman who waited by the phone.

But still, every now and then, her hand would drift toward it. A subtle glance, a flicker of hope.

Nothing.

A week crawled by. Then two.

Still nothing.

She hadn’t heard a single word from Ross since that night they danced, since he kissed her and whispered things that left her trembling.

She tried to brush it off—told Kristine it was all just fun and nothing serious—but the silence was getting to her.

It wasn’t just the absence of his voice. It was the absence of his presence, that overwhelming energy he carried like a storm in a tailored suit.

She searched for distractions. Work. Gym.

Friends. Dates, even. Men who were polite and funny and attractive in their own right.

But none of them had that. None of them made her stomach twist with one glance.

None of them haunted her.

One night, unable to sleep, Sasha opened her laptop and typed his name into a search engine.

Ross Oakley.

Her screen lit up with photos and headlines.

“Ross Oakley Attends Global Tech Forum in Beijing.”

“Philanthropist Ross Oakley Donates $50 Million to Orphan Relief Programs.”

“Billionaire Business Magnate Sighted in Paris with Royalty.”

He was everywhere—China, Italy, New York, Dubai. The man seemed to live in the clouds, unreachable and always in motion.

A dream too big to hold.

And all the while, she heard nothing from him. Not a call. Not a text.

She should have been angry. She was angry—at herself. For caring.

For letting him get under her skin.

For allowing one kiss, one night, to twist her emotions so tightly she couldn’t think straight.

Until finally, one month later, her pride gave out.

She stared at her phone for a long time, thumb hovering over the screen.

Then, with a deep breath, she typed it:

“Hi.”

Just that. Simple. Safe. A test.

She barely had time to take five breaths before her phone buzzed.

“Hello Sasha. How’ve you been?”