Episode 9 – The Breath-Stealing Kiss
“Just words? Prove it with a kiss. Otherwise, not buying it.”
I was joking. Completely not serious.
But then something soft and warm brushed my lips and pulled away. What the…?
I squinted up at Enoch, trying to get my fuzzy vision to focus. He stood frozen, lips pressed tight.
So… did his lips just touch mine?
Even with my head spinning, it was kind of cute.
Alright, fine. Effort noted, my good man.
“Enoooch~!”
I shot up and grabbed his face in both hands.
He’d gone this far to cheer me up, I couldn’t just leave it at that.
Like stamping him with a big “Well done!” seal, I smacked my lips right down on his red, soft, ridiculously kissable
ones.
He just stared at me, frozen like a statue, but I didn’t care; I happily kept planting kiss after kiss.
Then I had the sudden urge to bite that plump lower lip of his. Must’ve been the wine making me crazy.
I fought the impulse, stepped back, and grinned.
“Thanks, Enoch. I feel much better now.”
Then yank.
One arm wrapped around my waist, the other pulled me in by the back of the neck.
His lips brushed mine lightly, like butterfly wings, and then holy hell—
Something hot and slick slipped past my lips.
I froze, completely breathless. I tried to speak, but my mouth was full of him.
Then it moved deliberately, demanding, refusing to let even one breath escape.
It felt… weird. Weird, but good.
My heart pounded like crazy, my lungs screamed for air, the ceiling spun… and then everything went white.
When the Cornell sisters entered the academy, everyone made a fuss.
Most fawned over Irene’s looks, but Enoch’s eyes kept drifting to Nora.
She carried herself with perfect posture, every inch the royal-born lady.
Fourteen-year-old Enoch saw her as something between a crush and an idol.
She’d sometimes watch sword matches, expression cool and unreadable but he noticed her gaze was always fixed on
Philip.
He even went harder against Philip in spars, just to make her notice him.
But whenever Philip got cornered, her brows would crease slightly, and Enoch hated seeing that.
Eventually, he stopped going all-out against Philip, just so she wouldn’t frown.
Either way, the idea that Nora wasn’t attractive was complete garbage. Probably something Irene spat out in a fit of
spite.
So he’d meant it when he told her:
“Pretty women are common. But I’ve never met a woman with your kind of elegance.”
Granted, drunk Nora wasn’t exactly elegance personified; she was blunt, wild, and… maddeningly endearing.
So when she teased him, Enoch acted on impulse.
The second her lips brushed his, he realized how quickly someone could lose their mind.
When she started to pull away, he hauled her back in.
She fit perfectly in his arms, smelling faintly of sweet wine, and for the first time in his life, he let the moment carry
him.
Tasting her lips wasn’t enough; he cupped her cheeks, parted her soft mouth, and slipped inside.
Sweet. Soft. Electric. Nothing in his life had felt this good.
A pleasant heat buzzed in his chest, then lower—
He pulled back, startled by his own body’s reaction, and that’s when Nora went limp in his arms.
“Nora?”
He sat her upright, but she was out cold.
She’d actually passed out in the middle of a kiss.
“Emma! Emma!”
Panicking, he shouted for the duke’s veteran butler, but Nora’s personal maid appeared instead. She froze at the sight
of him holding a slip-clad Nora in his arms.
“Go get Emma and tell her to call the doctor!”
“Y-yes, sir!”
The maid rushed out, face red. Enoch realized the scene would easily set the whole estate buzzing with rumors.
He frowned, but gently laid Nora on the bed.
Emma arrived, composed as always.
“Lord Osmond, the Brandon family doctor, will be here shortly.”
She shut the open window, sniffed the air, and frowned.
“She’s been drinking? I’ve never known Miss Nora to touch alcohol… must be alcohol shock.”
Enoch stayed silent. No way was he admitting she’d blacked out while kissing him.
The doctor arrived soon after.
“When did she collapse?”
Emma glanced at Enoch.
“About twenty minutes ago?”
Emma asked, “It is alcohol shock, right?”
“Seems like it, but I can’t be certain. She was alone in her room when you found her?”
“That’s…”
Enoch hesitated, but for an accurate diagnosis, he had to be honest.
“She was drunk but conscious when I got here.”
“Did you argue with her?”
“Huh?”
“Overexcitement on top of heavy drinking can cause fainting.”
“…It wasn’t an argument.”
The doctor and Emma looked at him expectantly.
With a sigh, he said, “…We were kissing, and she suddenly passed out.”
Emma kept her composure, but the maid beside her blurted out an “Oh my!” before she could stop herself.
Now Enoch felt like a criminal, like he’d forced himself on a drunk woman.
He’d thought it was mutual, but suddenly he wasn’t so sure.
The doctor handed Emma instructions and medicine, then left.
“You two can go,” Enoch told them quietly. “I’ll stay with her.”
If he already looked like a scoundrel, he didn’t want to add “cold-hearted” to the list by leaving her alone.
He sat by her, staring at her sleeping face with a heavy sigh.
“…Nora.”
“Ugh…”
A stabbing pain in my temple made me groan.
Yep. Brutal hangover.
In my last life, I didn’t drink often, but when I did, I almost never got drunk, mostly out of sheer stubbornness, not
to lose.
The tradeoff was hellish hangovers.
Given my current body’s stamina, Nora was probably an alcohol lightweight to begin with.
The only reason I’d lasted as long as I did was sheer mental willpower.
I tried to rub my temple, but my hand wouldn’t move; it was being held in a warm, firm grip.
I opened my eyes… and saw Enoch, asleep, head resting on the bed, still holding my hand.
What the hell is he doing here?
I frowned, then a mortifying memory hit me.
“Enoooch~”
I could hear my own slurred voice, see myself grabbing his face and kissing him—
And then him pulling me in, his mouth—
“AAAH!”
I shot upright like I’d been spring-loaded.
Enoch jerked awake, straightening slowly.
“You’re up? Feeling better?”
He couldn’t meet my eyes, staring off to the side, and the tips of his ears were red. So yeah, he remembered too.
“…I’m fine,” I muttered, staring hard at the floor.
“I’ll change clothes and come back. We need to talk.”
That’s when I noticed he was still in pajamas.
Meaning he’d come to my room in the middle of the night like that… and I hadn’t kicked him out.
God, I’d been bold last night.
His thin pajamas clung to every line of muscle, more revealing than being shirtless.
Seriously, how do you just show up at a woman’s bedroom like that? Might as well have said, ‘Come eat me up.’
