The One He Dismissed Became The One He Died For novel Chapter 187

His touch was feather-light, almost entirely subconscious.

But the gentle friction sent a jolt of heat through her, and she immediately squeezed her legs together.

"Miles, stop..."

No response.

He was definitely still intoxicated, completely out of it.

Unit 501, Grandview Heights.

Claire punched in the passcode. The lock chimed and clicked open—he hadn't changed it.

She managed to drag him onto the sofa, then hurried to the kitchen to mix some honey water to sober him up.

By the time she returned, he was sitting upright.

He leaned back and downed the drink, the glassy fog in his eyes seeming to lift slightly.

"Why are you here?"

Claire genuinely had no idea how to explain herself.

But he didn't even wait for an answer. Unbuttoning his shirt entirely, he discarded it on the cushions, putting his sculpted chest and rigid abs on full display. Then, his hands drifted lower...

Click.

He unbuckled his belt, letting his slacks pool at his ankles.

Claire's breath hitched, and she immediately whirled around to give him privacy.

"Miles, what are you—"

"This is my apartment," he stated, returning to his usual detached demeanor as he stalked toward the master bathroom.

The sound of running water echoed from the shower, signaling her cue to leave.

She called Jared just to assure him they had made it back safely.

"Glad he's safe. Sorry for the trouble."

Claire paused. "I think the stitches on his arm might have torn open..."

"He's a surgeon. He knows better than anyone how to treat it—unless he actively refuses to care for himself."

"Right," she murmured, preparing to hang up.

But Jared stopped her. "Claire." His tone had grown entirely serious.

Her grip on the phone tightened.

His voice drifted through the receiver, heavy with truth.

"You really don't need to be afraid. He cares about you—loves you—more than you could ever imagine."

For the past ten years, Jared had watched Miles struggle to crawl out of the darkness, only to willingly plunge right back into it the moment she returned.

It felt like a heavy blow to her heart, her knuckles turning bone-white.

"Claire, you can't be this selfish. He's walked ninety-nine steps toward you, and you're still standing squarely at the starting line."

The line clicked dead. Claire stood outside his bedroom, staring blankly at the frosted glass of the shower door for a very long time.

After a grueling internal debate, she finally decided to leave.

As she turned, something on his nightstand caught her eye.

Inside a velvet-lined box laid a very familiar trinket.

Pulling back, her lashes fluttered. "That night after the gala, on the beach... I never got to explain myself properly."

"I'm not in love with Jefferson," she stated firmly, emphasizing every syllable. "I haven't loved him in a very long time."

Miles caught her chin between his fingers, forcing her to hold his intense gaze.

His thumb brushed over her bottom lip, his own curling into a cynical smirk.

"Does a single ounce of truth ever leave your mouth?"

"After lying for so long, do you honestly expect me to trust you?"

"Claire, do you think I'm a complete idiot?"

He didn't believe her, and truthfully, she didn't blame him.

Panic began to claw at her chest.

Biting her lip, she suddenly threw her arms around his lean, muscular waist.

She stretched up, eagerly kissing his jaw, his mouth, his Adam's apple... every touch frantic and clumsy.

Words weren't enough. She had to prove it to him.

Her hands slid beneath his waistband, her warm fingertips trailing against his bare skin.

Miles abruptly snatched her wrists, shoving her back with bruising force.

His chest heaved with heavy breaths, the raw emotion swirling in his darkened eyes.

"Realized words aren't working, so now you want to fuck your way back into my good graces?"

"Claire, what makes you think I'd ever want a deceitful liar like you?"