Love beyond the mask (Whitney) novel Chapter 484

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"Don't come any closer! Damn it, you're bleeding, stay still!" she cried out, her voice hoarse and soft like a desperate plea for him to listen.

Ludwik felt a pang of pain in his heart, but his thin lips curled up slightly, "Would you come to me, then?"

She wouldn't go to him. That was a chasm too deep. She couldn't forget the call from Florence, telling her about their rendezvous at the hotel...

The distance between them was closing.

He was nearly at his limit, resorting to crawling, but even so, he wanted to save her.

Whitney's eyes were stained with tears as she bit her lip until it bled, wanting to distance herself further from him.

But she couldn't move, her body felt like a puddle, an intense heat making her soaked...

His large hand touched her ankle.

Her injured ankle, bleeding, her toes small and delicate, pink and soft as porcelain.

Looking at them, he felt a deep sense of tenderness, devoid of any distraction.

"Ludwik, no, please don't..." she clawed at the corner of the wall, her voice soft and weak, resisting yet wanting to indulge.

Ludwik's hand moved up from the torn edge of her dress, wrapping around her waist, causing her to tremble at his touch.

His expression was grave, his features deep and serious, using the last of his strength to sit up beside her against the wall.

Looking at her flushed, tender face, his gaze remained sincere and focused. He reached for his belt, his trousers outlining his perfect form.

He breathed lightly, "Come sit closer..."

"I can't," Whitney muffled her voice, hoarse and on the verge of breaking, "You'll die if we do this now."

"I'm more afraid of losing you," Ludwik spoke softly, his hand gently stroking her delicate ankle.

Whitney's heart shattered, tears streaming down her face.

She uncontrollably crawled toward him, clasping his strong neck, wrapping her arms around him like a soft, fiery cloud, burying herself in his embrace.

Her eyes were wet, turning into springs.

Ludwik was moved, and indeed stirred, wrapping his arms around her slender body.

He didn't kiss her, partly because he lacked the strength, and partly because he feared she might mind.

He dared only to breathe in her soft, fragrant scent secretly, "Whitney, if I die, I'd rather die in your arms. Better than watching you die."

"I don't want this," Whitney cried, still trying to resist, her pride and sorrow painfully intertwined, "You and Florence..."

"I'm not tainted," he didn't know how else to explain. His relationship with Florence was never what she thought.

His smile was filled with bitterness.

Yet, she finally came to him... In the darkness, only their breathing was heard, gradually growing as intense as fire. Ludwik struggled to hold her hand, intertwining their fingers, every bit of joy suppressed under the pain and despair. He whispered hoarsely, "Don't fear my death, even if I die now, this moment is still blissful."

Whitney was too distraught to speak. Why did fate torture her like this, to become intimate with him under these circumstances?

Why? His every tender word made her heart break, she was in so much pain!

Yet her heart, like her body, couldn't help but tremble for him.

She told herself this was a desperate attempt at rescue, not to be soft-hearted, moved by pity, but he was willing to lay down his life for her...

Just like three years ago, when she was pregnant and attacked on a construction site, he unhesitatingly took the hit for her.

Tonight, to save her, he was stabbed, choosing to ensure her safety even now...

Everything seemed the same, yet everything had changed!

Whitney, in agony, hugged him tightly, overwhelmed by a torrent of sensations.