Chapter220 – Like a skirt
She thought that if she hadn’t adopted him, hadn’t saved him when he was desperate, Atticus—with his pride, his brilliance, his youth—might never have looked twice at her.
Her arms slipped around his waist, holding him close. She muttered against his chest, voice breaking, “You idiot…”
He clutched her back fiercely, like she might vanish at any second. His voice came low, rough, trembling. “Clarissa… does it scare you, seeing me like this?”
She brushed the hair from his forehead, looking at his sharp, beautiful face. Her lips curved softly. “It worries me a little.”
His eyes darkened, but before he could speak, she smiled again, teasing and tender all at once. “I’m worried my little wolfdog is too clingy. What if I end up too happy?”
Her eyes shone like a thousand stars, luminous and warm. “Atticus, I love you. So don’t walk yourself ragged trying to reach me—I’ll walk too. Let’s meet in the middle, together. Okay?”
“Clarissa!” His arms tightened so hard she could barely breathe. He wanted to devour her, to fuse her into himself, to erase the space between them.
He had long known how dangerous her pull over him was. He hated the loss of control. And yet he let it happen, let her vines coil around his heart and squeeze until it hurt.
Clarissa held him just as tightly, feeling the tremor running through his body. She softened again, whispering against his skin, “It’s late. Sleep.”
“…Mm. Good.”
......
Three days later, Clarissa and Atticus were preparing to leave for the filming location.
Before heading out, Clarissa called Phoenix—since their destination was the same city Phoenix was currently staying in.
The line clicked, and Phoenix’s voice came through, bright with delight. “Really? You’re coming to see me?”
“Yes,” Clarissa said with a small smile. “I’ll be over there soon.”
Phoenix’s excitement faltered into worry. “That area isn’t safe. You need to be careful, Clarissa. There are places you must not go.”
“Don’t worry. Atticus will be with me the whole time.”
The second Phoenix heard the name, his tone soured instantly. “Why is he tagging along? Didn’t I assign him work? Why’s he clinging to you every damn day?”
Clarissa had expected this reaction. She sighed softly, half helpless, half amused. “He’s on leave…”
“On leave, my ass! Lazy brat. Give him the phone—I’ll talk some sense into him.”
“He’s… cooking,” Clarissa muttered, could only recount what had happened the other day.
Phoenix’s exasperation only sharpened. “Clarissa, you’re reckless. Do you even realize how dangerous this is? Leave everything to Maximilian and the others—”
Even through the line, Clarissa could feel her anxiety buzzing. She softened her voice to soothe him. “Phoenix, I’m fine. But… there’s something that’s been bothering me. Someone hinted that my last incident—when I nearly drowned—wasn’t an accident. They said it was connected to this framing. Have you found anything?”
There was a long silence. Finally, Phoenix said, low and reluctant, “It is suspicious. But I can’t say more over the phone. We’ll talk when you arrive.”
“Alright.” Clarissa hesitated, then asked, “Could it… have anything to do with Dorian?”
“Dorian?” Phoenix paused, then answered firmly, “No. Not him.”
Just hearing the name twisted Clarissa’s stomach. “I believe you.”
“You have to protect yourself, Clarissa. If you ever pull something like that again, I’ll really be furious. And Everett—damn bastard—hiding it from me? Unforgivable.”
“He didn’t want to burden you,” Clarissa said gently. “Besides, Atticus can handle this.”
Phoenix’s eyes darkened at that, though his tone stayed tender. “I’m just glad you’re safe. Don’t worry—I’ll make sure this is dealt with.”
When the call ended, Clarissa sat staring at her dark screen, lost in thought.
Atticus came out of the kitchen and immediately noticed her expression. He slid onto the sofa beside her, his arm brushing hers. “Why the long face? What did that actor say to you?”
Clarissa shook her head slightly. “I was just… thinking about last time.”
“You mean Zachary’s little stunt?”
“Mm.” Her brows knit. “It still doesn’t sit right with me. I’ve never gone out of my way to offend anyone…”
A dangerous light flickered in Atticus’s eyes, but his smile was calm, even indulgent. He cupped her face, his thumb brushing her cheek. “Silly Clarissa. Malice doesn’t always need a reason.”
She blinked. “Doesn’t need a reason?”
Atticus’s gaze deepened. “You’re beautiful, brilliant, and kind. That alone is enough to make people jealous. Some bastards will hate you simply because you shine.”
Her cheeks warmed at his words, heat blooming in her chest. Atticus never held back with his praise—and every time, it filled her with a quiet, guilty joy.
As long as he was with her, she felt untouchable. The strong, capable Clarissa could let go, could become soft, vulnerable—even a little spoiled.
Atticus saw her mood brighten and tugged her gently to her feet. “No more frowning. We’ve got an early morning tomorrow. Let’s eat, then sleep.”
That night, Clarissa sprawled across the bed, lazily scrolling through her phone as she changed her game character’s outfit.
Atticus, fresh from the shower, sat down beside her. The mattress dipped under his weight, his tall, overheated body crowding her space.
His hand slid around her waist, pulling her close as he leaned in, pressing his damp warmth against her. His lips traced light, lingering kisses down the side of her neck.
Only then did Clarissa realize—he wasn’t wearing anything but a bath towel. Worse, with the way he’d been pressing against her, the towel was already hanging precariously loose.
Her cheeks flamed. She quickly caught his mouth with her hand, flustered. “Stop.”
His breath came hot and uneven against her skin. He kissed her fingertips slowly, deliberately, his voice husky. “Not yet?”
Clarissa’s voice softened, shy. “A little more…”
It was the fourth day of her cycle, and she knew it would last another day or two. Atticus sighed, rolling onto his side, gathering her against him like she was the only thing that mattered. He buried his face in her hair, murmuring, “Then sleep.”
But pressed against his bare, overheated body, Clarissa couldn’t relax. He always insisted on sleeping like this—naked, clinging to her. Even with the air conditioning on full blast, she was soon covered in a thin sheen of sweat.
Her loose pajamas did little to block his heat or the familiar scent of him. The memory of how he usually touched her made her throat dry. She finally muttered, embarrassed, “Could you at least put on some clothes?”
He gave a wicked little laugh. “Or you could take off yours.”
“Atticus!” Clarissa shoved him weakly, her face burning. “All you ever think about is that.”
Had he always been this insatiable? Or was this just how men were when it came to the woman they wanted?
He looked at her with exaggerated hurt. “You’re in my arms. I can see you, touch you, smell you… but I can’t do anything else. Clarissa, you’re cruel.”
She turned away, too embarrassed to meet his eyes. But he only leaned closer, lowering his voice. “Your closet’s full of those boring cotton pajamas and loungewear. Can’t you wear something else once in a while?”
“Something else?” she asked cautiously.
“Like a skirt.”
“A skirt?”
She shook her head immediately. “No.”
“Why not?”
“I’ve tried nightgowns before. They always ride up by morning. Pants are more comfortable.”
Atticus tightened his hold around her waist, his tone dipping into something almost boyish. “But I want to see you in one. Just once. Please, Clarissa? For me?”
His hair brushed her cheek, tickling her until she laughed despite herself. “You…”
It was only a skirt. Not a big deal. She gave in easily. “Fine. I’ll check if I still have a nightgown somewhere.”
“I’ll buy you one,” Atticus said instantly, his grin triumphant. “You’re busy anyway. Leave it to me.”
“Alright,” Clarissa replied, not thinking much of it. Shopping hadn’t been on her mind lately.
She had no idea she’d regret those words.
His smile spread slow and wicked as he brushed his lips against her cheek. “Good. Now, go to sleep.”
Clarissa blinked at how obedient he suddenly seemed, but exhaustion quickly overtook her. She shut her eyes and drifted off.
Atticus, though, didn’t sleep right away. He stared down at her sleeping face, his lips curling with dangerous satisfaction.
“My good Clarissa… I’ll make sure you can’t live without me. Not in body, not in heart.”
He bent and kissed her lips lightly before pulling her into his arms, finally letting sleep take him.
Clarissa slept soundly, but when her alarm went off she sat up immediately, never one to linger in bed.
As usual, Atticus had risen early to make her breakfast.
When she opened the door, he was just about to knock, a tray in hand. The moment he saw her, his whole face lit up. “Good morning.”
Clarissa blinked. He looked unusually cheerful, almost energized. Normally he was lazy and slow to get going, but today he seemed positively buoyant.
“Good morning,” she replied, amused.
After breakfast, they set out for their early flight. On the plane, Clarissa pored over a map, tracing the unfamiliar routes with her finger.
The destination was breathtakingly beautiful but remote. The region was home to several ethnic minorities, the economy lagged, and crime was common. Safety was always a concern. Though still within the country, the borderland was far—over ten hours by air.
Eventually, the map blurred before her eyes. Clarissa stifled a yawn.
“Sleepy?” Atticus asked, watching her droop in her seat.
“Yeah… a little.”
He reached into his bag, pulled out an eye mask, and pressed it gently into her hand.
Clarissa slipped it on, and with the comfort of his presence beside her, drifted into sleep.
By the time the plane landed, it was nearly six in the evening.
The moment Clarissa stepped off, her phone rang. Oriana’s voice burst through, frazzled. “Xerxes is throwing a fit again. He hates the place.”
Clarissa pinched the bridge of her nose. “Alright. I’ll be there soon.”
By the time she hung up, Atticus was coming back from baggage claim. “What’s wrong?”
“That actor again. He’s making a scene. I’ll have to smooth it over. You can head to the B\&B first.”
Atticus frowned. “Security here is bad. I’m coming with you.”
As they moved through the terminal, Clarissa could already feel the stares following her—some curious, some blatantly rude. No way was he letting her face this place alone.
Seeing the resolve in his eyes, Clarissa simply nodded. His reasoning wasn’t wrong.
When they reached the set, Oriana was pacing anxiously by the entrance. The moment she spotted Clarissa, her relief was palpable. “Miss Clarissa, thank god you’re here.”
Clarissa gave her a calm smile. “Let’s go.”