Three years of loving him, three days to erase myself from his world novel Chapter 213

Sensing his intent, Clara gasped softly. A nervous flutter rippled through her chest. Blushing deeply, she turned her head away and pressed a finger against his lips. "Too fast, Julian. Don't."

She was moved by his gestures, yes, but not nearly enough to erase years of distance and completely give herself over to him without hesitation.

Julian's gaze grew dark with barely restrained desire.

But he knew better than to push her limits.

He took the hand she pressed against his lips, lightly caressing her knuckles, and murmured against her ear, his voice rough.

"Alright. I'll wait until you're ready."

His hot breath and seductive words sent a scorching heat straight to Clara's face.

Unable to take the intensity, she snatched her hand back and took a retreating step, her voice trembling. "It's late, you should go. Drive safe."

With that, she opened her door and darted inside, looking exactly like a startled, fleeing kitten. It was incredibly endearing.

Her shy escape was somehow even more captivating than the kiss they almost shared.

Julian's dark eyes lingered on the closed door, his Adam's apple bobbing sharply. He rarely felt this kind of fierce pull, but this time, it was undeniable.

He mused that men truly were driven by their base desires.

Or perhaps, after spending so much time together, and having her occupy his thoughts constantly lately, he actually did have genuine feelings for her.

But having feelings wasn't the same as love.

Julian exhaled a heavy breath, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it. He took a slow drag.

Just then, the door that had just been shut opened once more.

Clara stood there in her pajamas, her face still adorably flushed, holding out an umbrella for him. She looked like she had debated this internally for a long time before stammering out her words.

"It's still raining. Take this so you don't get soaked."

Julian narrowed his eyes slightly. Looking at her soft, caring demeanor, a spot deep in his chest felt suddenly, inexplicably touched.

Truth be told, in all his years, very few people had ever cared about his well-being. The majority of the people surrounding him were only after money or power.

Julian didn't take the umbrella. Removing the cigarette from his lips, he stared at her intently, his voice husky. "Why bring me an umbrella? Are you worried about me?"

Clara shot him a glare, refusing to give him the satisfaction. She simply shoved the umbrella into his chest. "I am not! It's just a thank-you for the painting."

Then, she slammed the door shut.

Julian let out a quiet, defeated laugh. He looked down at the umbrella in his arms, his grip slowly tightening as his heart hammered wildly against his ribs.

But in the very next second.

A phone call yanked him brutally back to reality.

It was Arthur.

"Mr. Lowell, where are you? Seraphina's caught a terrible fever. Her temperature is at 102 degrees, and she's asking for you."

A moment later, Seraphina's weak, sickly whimper came through the receiver. "Julian..."

Julian's eyes darkened. He cast one final look at Clara's tightly shut door, remaining silent for a few seconds before answering lowly, "I'm on my way."

He turned and walked down the stairs, his tall shadow stretching long and lonely under the hallway lights.

...

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