CHAPTER 87: CHAPTER 87: PHYSICAL ATTRACTION IS HARDER TO QUIT THAN DRUGS

Victoria Sinclair turned off the light, closed her eyes, and carefully moved her body closer to Eugene Vaughn.

At a mere arm’s length, she gently touched his strong, warm hand and pressed her cheek against his shoulder.

The man’s body was so warm, exuding a faint fresh scent mixed with a hint of alcohol—it was particularly pleasant.

She didn’t know if all clean-loving men smelled good, but Eugene Vaughn always had a fragrant scent.

She really liked Eugene’s scent.

This was a physiological liking, and she guessed she would never forget Eugene’s unique fresh fragrance in this lifetime.

Victoria Sinclair felt a tumult of confusion in her heart, mixed with a bitterness.

Lying beside him, there was a sense of emptiness, a desire to nestle into his embrace, to have him hold her tightly.

This physiological affection was harder to overcome than addiction.

But she had to leave in the morning.

She had already wasted two years in this relationship, drained for two years, and needed to cut her losses in time to avoid getting deeper.

Her father-in-law’s tricks to force her into divorce were merely the last straw that broke the camel’s back.

In the end, she was thoroughly disappointed with this marriage.

The air conditioner was set to 27 degrees, a comfortable temperature for Victoria, and she slowly drifted into sleep.

But for the young, vigorous Eugene Vaughn, this temperature was stifling, especially since he had been drinking.

Victoria felt herself slipping into a hazy sleep when the man beside her suddenly sat up.

Startled, she opened her eyes.

Outside, the sky was a misty gray, just breaking dawn; the fog was disorienting, the room enveloped in haze.

Eugene swiftly pulled off his clothes, tossed them to the side of the bed, and quickly lay back down, kicking off the blanket, turning over.

His long limbs rested on Victoria Sinclair’s body.

Frightened, her body tensed, fully awake, her breathing became rapid, her heart gradually accelerated.

His thigh was so heavy.

Victoria Sinclair held her breath, slowly using effort to push off his thigh and hand, turning her back to him.

The man’s hand again landed on her waist.

Eugene, still muddled from sleep, instinctively embraced the soft, warm thing, pulling it into his arms.

At this moment, a shocking realization hit.

Victoria Sinclair felt herself explode, her body stiff and tense, her heartbeat thunderous.

Her blood seemed to freeze, she dared not breathe, trembling in his embrace.

Madness!

It’s early morning, not ordinarily terrifying.

She closed her eyes and took deep breaths to calm down; he’d drunk so much last night that he probably hadn’t sobered up completely.

To Eugene Vaughn, asleep, holding soft fragrance in his embrace, breathing in the intoxicating scent was spellbinding.

Though his eyelids were heavy, his consciousness hazy, his eyes didn’t open, his body instinctively stirred.

"Eugene, move away..."

Eugene opened his eyes, shocked, and turned away.

He lay on the bed, using willpower to restrain himself, breathing out, lazily murmuring, "How did I end up in your bed?"

Victoria Sinclair pulled up the blanket to cover her body, her voice soft and light, "You got drunk last night, it was Miles Shaw who brought you home, maybe he didn’t know we sleep separately and put you in my bed."

Eugene buried his face in her pillow.

Though he had spent a whole night, Victoria Sinclair’s lingering fragrance still remained, as lovely as her hair.

This scent belonging to Victoria drove his body beyond control, nearly driving him crazy, pressing his waist and hips forcefully against the bed.

His fists clenched tightly and hard, eyes shut, afraid to look at her.

He dreaded he might lose control and force himself on her the next second.

Being in Victoria Sinclair’s bed, able to hold the soft fragrance in his arms, but tortured by emptiness instead, it was unbearably tormenting.

Even his breaths seeped with hot desire.

"What time is it?" Eugene’s voice was hoarse.

Victoria Sinclair reached for her phone, glanced at the screen, "Five forty-five."

Eugene slowly got up, back turned to Victoria, sitting at the edge of the bed with hands propped on it, bending over to suppress his desires, "Your room is too warm, I’ll go back and shower then sleep a bit more."

Victoria Sinclair wished he would stay, yet feared he might lose control. She dared not speak, watching Eugene’s back, broad shoulders, narrow waist, his perfect muscular build outlining his rigid back.

When Eugene stood up, his gaze fell on her two packed suitcases.

He froze, fists clenched instinctively.

He strode to her wardrobe, pulling the doors open.

Inside was empty, not a single piece of clothing.

Then he turned toward the empty vanity.

The desk beside it was also neatly cleared.

He walked to the vanity, pulling open a drawer.

Nothing inside, he pushed it shut forcefully.

With a loud bang, the empty drawer closed.

Victoria Sinclair sat up, startled, uneasily watching him.

Eugene looked upwards, taking deep breaths, steadying himself, then turned toward Victoria on the bed, his tone mild yet each word pressed with anger, "What have I done to you? The divorce isn’t even finalized, yet you can’t wait to move out?"

Victoria Sinclair explained uneasily, "The procedures won’t take long, I have to move sooner or later."

Eugene’s tone turned firm, "Victoria Sinclair, you know I won’t agree to this divorce."

"I know, but you can’t overpower the law." Victoria Sinclair’s attitude was resolute, "If one filing doesn’t work, I’ll file again. This marriage must end."

Eugene Vaughn bitterly twisted his mouth in a smile, eyes full of helplessness, "You’re dead set on divorcing me, anxious to remarry?"