Novel Full Chapter 1722: I Don’t Come in For Tea
Chapter 1722: I Don’t Come in For Tea
Villain Ch 1722. I Don’t Come in For Tea
She paused at the hallway, digging for her keys with one hand while the other clung to the last bit of calm she had left. Allen stood beside her, quiet, hands in his pockets.
It was dumb how good he looked under soft light. Like the universe turned the saturation up just for him.
She unlocked the door, pushed it open, and turned back slightly. “Thank you.”
Allen just blinked at her like she’d said something ridiculous. “No need to thank me.”
Still, she smiled. A little tired. A little shy. “You want to grab a tea first?”
The question sounded innocent enough. Tea. Warm, calming, friendly.
But they both knew it wasn’t about the tea.
Allen’s gaze flicked up, steady and unreadable, before he gave a small nod. “Sure.”
He stepped inside without hesitation, the scent of her apartment greeting him first—lavender, clean sheets, something herbal and soft. She shut the door behind him, the click sounding much louder than it should in the quiet.
Azura moved to the small open kitchen, flicking on the lights. “What kind of tea do you want?”
She was halfway toward the cabinet when she heard him move. Not fast. Just… deliberate.
The sound of his footsteps. The shift of his coat. The air in the room changed like the atmosphere remembered who he really was.
His fingers wrapped around her wrist gently. Not rough. Not demanding. Just final.
She turned halfway, caught between curiosity and rising heat. “Hm?”
Allen was standing too close.
His voice was low. “We just had tea.”
Her heart tripped.
“I don’t come in for tea,” he said.
And then—he moved.
His other hand came up, slow and fluid, and pressed flat against the wall behind her, right next to her head. The sound was soft but firm. Not loud. Just enough. The kind of movement that told the body before the brain that something had changed. That escape was no longer an option.
Azura’s breath caught in her throat. Her back brushed the wall. Her skin buzzed where his fingers still circled her wrist.
He was close enough for her to smell him—last dessert and midnight air and whatever cologne he wore that always felt too elegant for his age. His eyes locked with hers, no smirk now. No playful teasing.
Just intent.
Real, raw, dangerously unfiltered want.
She swallowed. “Allen…”
He leaned in just enough that his forehead almost touched hers. The tension was magnetic. Her nerves were screaming in every direction, but she couldn’t—wouldn’t—move.
“What are you doing?” she whispered, but the words came out breathless.
Allen tilted his head slightly, like he was studying her reactions the way he studied enemy formations. “I’ve been holding back.”
She blinked. “What?”
“I’ve been good,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, brushing against her skin like static. “I’ve been patient. But I don’t think I can be good tonight.”
She tried to breathe. Her lungs weren’t cooperating.
Allen leaned in a fraction closer. “Tell me to stop.”
She didn’t.
And maybe that was the problem.
Because her heart was pounding like a war drum. Her entire body was on edge, every inch of her hyperaware of where his arm caged her in, how his knee brushed against her leg, how the heat between them was rising too fast.
“Azura,” he said softly, “look at me.”
She did.
She shouldn’t have.
Because the way he looked at her—like she was the only thing anchoring him to this reality—was too much.
“I want you,” he said. “And not just in passing. Not just as a joke or a moment or a game.”
Her breath hitched.
“I want you when you’re angry, and impossible, and sharp. I want you like this—blushing, brave, and trying so hard not to melt.”
“I’m not—” she started.
“You are.”
And then—he kissed her.
No hesitation. No gentle testing of the waters.
Just full, consuming heat.
It wasn’t like the first kiss. That one had been quick, almost like a dare. This one was fire. Slow and deep and maddening. His lips pressed into hers with a hunger that curled through her chest and spread like wildfire. One hand slid from the wall to her waist, pulling her closer, anchoring her in a way that made her toes curl.
Azura kissed him back because she couldn’t not. Because every logical part of her brain had short-circuited the second he closed the distance.
His mouth moved with hers like they’d done this a hundred times in another life. Like he’d memorized the shape of her already. His fingers brushed her jaw, tilting her up to him. His thumb stroked under her chin as if to remind her ’this is real. You said yes.’
Azura felt like she was burning from the inside out.
And the worst part?
She didn’t want it to stop.
When he finally pulled back, barely, their breaths mingled in the small space between them. Her hands were clenched in his jacket now, nails digging into the fabric like she needed it to breathe.
Allen looked at her—flushed, dazed, lips parted.
His voice was hoarse. “Still want to pretend it’s just tea?”
She could barely form words. “That was not tea.”
“I warned you.”
“You didn’t.”
“You’re right,” he murmured, brushing a kiss against her jaw this time, softer. “That was unfair.”
Azura let her head rest lightly against the wall, eyes fluttering closed for a second. “I should kick you out.”
“You should,” he said. “But you won’t.”
She opened her eyes, narrowed them slightly. “Cocky.”
“Always.”
“Dangerous.”
“Only to people I want.”
Her blush flared again. “This doesn’t feel real.”
“It is.”
Allen leaned in again—this time slower, gentler, until their noses brushed.
“You’re mine, Azura,” he said, lips barely touching hers. “And I don’t care how long we keep it quiet. I just need to know it’s real.”
She looked up at him, heart beating so fast she swore it echoed in her ears. “It is.”
He smiled then—soft, genuine, devastating.
“Good.”
And then he kissed her again.
Because of course he did.
And this time… she didn’t stop him.