Chapter 47

Elena barely had time to gasp before Richard’s arm swept around her waist like an iron bar, locking her firmly against him.

Her hands instinctively pressed against his chest. Beneath her palms, his dark-gray tank top was slightly damp with sweat, and the muscles underneath felt as hard as stone.

“Wait—”

She managed only one word before his hand closed around the back of her head.

Five long, powerful fingers slid into her slightly loosened braid, his palm pressing firmly against the back of her skull as he tilted her face up, leaving no room for resistance.

Elena’s eyes widened.

Then he kissed her.

There was something almost punishing about it.

The instant Richard’s lips came down on hers, Elena felt as though a predator had caught her by the throat.

His lips were hot, dry, slightly rough, his body still radiating heat from the workout.

He gave her no time to catch her breath.

His mouth pressed harder against hers, forcing her parted lips wider.

A muffled sound escaped Elena’s throat.

His tongue swept into her mouth, hot and demanding, carrying the same overwhelming force as the rest of him.

The kiss was deep and relentless, every movement almost possessive.

Their breaths tangled together.

Richard tilted his head and changed the angle, deepening the kiss until Elena was forced to lean back against his arm.

His teeth caught her lower lip.

He bit down lightly.

Elena sucked in a breath and instinctively pushed against his chest.

Richard didn’t move an inch.

Instead, his arm tightened around her, and his hand slipped into the narrow gap beside her climbing harness, giving her waist a light squeeze.

The slender curve beneath his palm was soft and flexible, rising and falling with every uneven breath she took.

At last, the kiss broke.

Elena drew in one breath after another.

Her lips were slightly swollen, and a faint mark from his teeth remained on her lower lip.

She stared blankly at the man inches away from her.

Richard looked down at her in return.

The darkness in those black eyes had not completely faded, like ink slowly sinking through deep water.

Yet his expression had already returned to its usual calm, composed indifference.

There was even the faintest curve at the corner of his mouth.

He withdrew his hand and casually smoothed the loose strands of hair around her face, his touch unexpectedly gentle.

“And somehow, you’re always the one taking advantage of me.”

Elena had only just recovered from that overwhelming kiss.

The moment she heard him, she nearly stopped breathing all over again.

“...Right. Of course. I’m the one taking advantage of you.”

She said it with a completely expressionless face, then raised the back of her hand and rubbed hard at her still-numb lips.

“Happy now, you cold-hearted man?”

Richard laughed and ruffled the top of her head.

“Still want to compete?”

Elena gritted her teeth.

“Obviously!”

Richard gave her a long look before walking over to a cabinet and taking out a pair of smaller climbing shoes.

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

He handed them to her.

“Try these. This brand runs true to size.”

“Hm?”

Elena took the shoes and looked at them.

“Why do you have a size thirty-eight?”

Richard answered as though it were the most ordinary thing in the world.

“Alfred had everything prepared the first day you stayed here.”

Elena: “...”

She normally wore a size thirty-eight.

Climbing shoes were supposed to fit snugly, with almost no empty space inside, and depending on the brand and model, climbers sometimes sized down for a more precise fit. But since Richard said this brand ran true to size, she decided to try them first.

She slipped them on.

The shoes wrapped tightly around her feet, her toes just touching the front without any extra space inside.

A perfect fit.

Once she had changed shoes, Elena stood, rolled her ankles a few times, and walked to the base of the climbing wall.

She tilted her head back.

From down here, the colored holds embedded in the gray wall looked like gemstones scattered across a cliff face.

The overhanging section near the top looked almost like a ceiling hanging directly above her head.

“Choose whatever route you want,” Richard said as he came to stand beside her. His voice was unhurried. “No color restrictions. You can use holds from any route or mix them however you like.”

He looked up at the wall.

“First one to the top wins.”

Elena frowned as her eyes rapidly scanned the distribution of holds.

For the first section, she could use the densely packed green and blue holds to gain height quickly.

In the middle, she could transition to yellow. The gaps were wider there, but they should still be within her reach.

As for that final overhang—

She would deal with it when she got there.

“Fine.”

Richard moved to a starting position about three feet to her right.

Elena set a countdown on her phone.

“Three.”

Her fingers closed around the first green hold near the bottom of the wall.

“Two.”

Her right foot settled onto a blue foothold, the rubber sole of her climbing shoe gripping firmly against the raised resin.

“One.”

Elena pulled herself off the ground.

The first ten feet went smoothly.

The green holds were large and closely spaced, roughly a foot apart, most of them shaped like beginner-friendly jugs.

She could wrap her entire hand around them, making each grip secure and comfortable.

Her body was light and flexible, and her hands and feet moved quickly with almost no wasted motion.

Elena even dared to glance to her right while climbing.

She immediately regretted it.

Richard was faster.

Much faster.

He was using a mixture of yellow and orange holds, spaced at least twice as far apart as the green route Elena had chosen.

But his arms were longer.

So were his legs.

Holds that would have forced Elena to stretch desperately just to reach them were easily within his grasp.

His climbing style was completely different from hers.

Elena relied on footwork and coordination. She kept her center of gravity between her feet and used her legs to drive herself upward, while her hands mainly maintained balance.

It was a basic, energy-efficient climbing technique.

Safe, but not especially fast.

Richard, on the other hand—

He was practically hauling himself upward with sheer upper-body strength.

Every time he switched hands, the movement came with a powerful pull, his arms and back lifting his entire body nearly half a meter in a single motion.

His lats flared sharply beneath the dark-gray tank top, stretching the fabric across his back almost like a pair of opening wings.

Then his foot would land precisely on the next foothold, stabilizing his position before his other hand shot toward the next hold above.

The entire sequence was fluid.

Effortless.

Like a large cat scaling a cliff—explosive and powerful, yet controlled down to the smallest movement.

Elena knew she was in trouble.

If this came down to speed, there was absolutely no way she could beat him.

But she still refused to give up.

She increased her pace and transitioned from the green section to the blue holds.

The blue holds were farther apart.

Their shapes also changed from comfortable jugs to smaller edges and slopers.

Her fingers began to ache.

Rock climbing placed enormous strain on the forearm flexors. Every grip meant using her fingers to support much of her body weight.

And her forearms had already been exhausted once during their pull-up competition.

Now those muscles were beginning to protest.

Five meters.

Elena’s heart was pounding.

Not just from exertion.

From urgency.

Without thinking, she sped up again.

Her right hand shot past one blue hold and reached directly for a yellow hold above it.

Her fingertips touched it.

But she failed to secure the grip.

The yellow hold was a shallow sloper with barely two finger joints’ worth of usable surface.

Her fingers were damp with sweat.

Her fingertips skidded across the resin—

And slipped.

Her right hand instantly lost its hold.

Her center of gravity shifted violently.

“—!”

Elena’s heart seized.

Her left hand was still gripping the blue hold below, but the sudden shift in weight sent her body swinging uncontrollably to the right.

Her fingers began sliding.

Three fingers.

Two.

One—

At the same moment, her right foot slipped free.

Her balance vanished completely.

Her mind went blank.

She even forgot about the harness and safety line.

Instinctively, she tried to cling to the blue hold with her left hand, but her forearms were already spent.

The muscles simply refused to respond.

Her last finger slipped free.

She dropped.

The safety line caught almost instantly.

But before it could fully arrest her swing—

A powerful arm locked around her waist.

Elena’s body jerked to a stop.

She turned her head in shock.

She was more than five meters above the ground, pressed tightly against a hot, solid chest.

Richard had somehow moved sideways from his route to hers.

His right hand was still locked around an orange hold.

He was hanging from one arm.

The veins along his forearm stood out sharply from wrist to elbow, every line visible beneath his skin.

His left arm was wrapped around Elena’s waist.

It reached around her from behind, his forearm pressed against the small strip of exposed skin at her side, his palm locked firmly against the curve of her waist.

Even with the safety line taking part of Elena’s weight, Richard was still holding himself one-handed while keeping her firmly against him.

Under the strain, his right bicep tightened into a hard, pronounced curve.

The sleeveless cut of his tank top left every movement in his arm exposed.

From shoulder to bicep to forearm, every muscle was drawn taut, the fibers beneath his skin wound tight like steel cables.

Elena stared up at him, momentarily speechless.

His low voice came from just above her head, slightly hoarse from exertion and edged with an almost careless amusement.

“Got you.”