The One He Dismissed Became The One He Died For novel Chapter 269

At Grandview Heights.

After a hot shower, Claire curled up on the sofa in her slip dress, sketching designs for OCHH's upcoming collection.

She planned to use a casual men's line to build hype for the new series. But with the iPad resting on her lap, she couldn't draw a single line.

Men's fashion?

It wasn't her area of expertise, and her mind was completely blank.

Miles walked out of the bedroom, fresh from his own shower. The belt of his bathrobe was tied loosely around his waist.

He rubbed his damp hair with a towel and asked, "Are you hungry? Do you want a late-night snack?"

Claire's stylus froze in mid-air.

Her gaze drifted over him. This man practically lived at the hospital, so how on earth was his physique better than the professional models at her agency?

She narrowed her eyes, her toes curling instinctively.

"Dr. Zimmerman, I went out in a massive storm to pick you up today. Shouldn't you show your gratitude?"

She propped her bare feet up on the coffee table, swaying them back and forth.

Miles looked up at her. "Name it."

She tilted her head, a mischievous smile playing on her lips. "I'm designing a casual men's line, and I need a muse to inspire me."

"A naked one."

Claire threw that last part in purely to mess with him.

She fully expected him to decline, but Miles simply smirked and reached for the buttons of his robe.

His long fingers moved with deliberate slowness. One button, then two... the collar parted, revealing the sharp, striking lines of his collarbones.

Claire froze on the sofa, her swaying feet coming to a halt. She stared at him, her breathing hitching slightly.

Surgeons had beautiful hands, that was to be expected.

But for a profession that required so much standing and sitting, how did he maintain a body like this?

As he undid the third button, he intentionally slowed his movements.

"Okay, okay, that's far enough," Claire stammered, her ears burning as she quickly held up a hand to stop him.

Miles didn't stop. Instead, he took a step closer.

"You do your drawing, I'll do my undressing."

His masculine presence suddenly enveloped her. She instinctively pressed the tip of her stylus against his chest, feigning composure. "A model and an artist need to maintain professional boundaries!"

"When you're posing as a model, there's no way you can keep your core flexed at one hundred percent the entire time! If you relax even a little, the natural curve changes. This is realism!"

Miles reached out and wrapped his fingers around her wrist.

Claire gasped. The iPad slipped from her grasp, hitting the carpet with a soft thud.

He guided her hand firmly against his waist, pressing her palm flat against his skin.

He leaned in, his lips brushing against her ear. "Why don't you measure it yourself? Is it exactly like your drawing?"

Claire froze completely.

His body heat seeped into her palm, the texture of his skin firm and incredibly warm beneath her fingers.

"Miles," she whispered, her throat tight. "You're playing dirty."

Her brain practically short-circuited. She abandoned the stylus entirely, tilted her head back, and boldly offered an invitation. "I think I want a taste of you."

Just as the words left her mouth, the phone on the coffee table began buzzing violently.

The words 'Emergency Consult' flashed across the screen.

Miles's demeanor instantly hardened. He grabbed the phone.

"Professor Zimmerman, emergency room. Eight-month-old female infant, sudden high fever of unknown origin, slipping in and out of consciousness. Dr. Lucas Lawrence from Pediatrics needs you down here for a consult immediately."