Chapter 217: The Angry Whip Marks
Evaline:
I curled my fingers tighter around the front of his shirt, gripping it with silent desperation. I didn’t want him to go. I didn’t want this moment to end.
My heart was racing, but I didn’t feel nervous. I felt seen, wanted... safe. And for once, I didn’t want to pretend otherwise.
He must have felt the unspoken plea in my grip because he smiled again, that warm and devilish smile of his. Then he leaned forward to kiss me once more. I melted against him without hesitation, my lips parting for his as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
He kissed me with slow intensity, like he had all the time in the world to enjoy the taste of me. By the time he pulled away, my knees were weak and my breath hitched in my throat.
And yet, as he looked at me again, a frown took over his face.
"You are going to get sick," he muttered as his fingers grazed my damp strands. "Why didn’t you dry your hair? It’s winter. You know that, right?"
I blinked, a bit dazed. "I was going to-"
"No excuses." His voice was firm, but playful. He took my hand and tugged me gently toward the walk-in closet. "Sit."
I obeyed, a little too willingly, and settled in front of the dressing table as he rummaged around for the blow dryer. When he returned, he plugged it in with practiced ease and tested the heat with his fingers. Then he stood behind me and began drying my hair.
It started as a gentle hum of warm air, but the sensation quickly became something deeper. Something comforting. His fingers threaded through my wet locks with such care that I found myself leaning into the touch. He moved slowly, methodically, smoothing the strands, his other hand brushing down the length of my hair with a tenderness I didn’t know I needed.
"You really like taking care of people, don’t you?" I murmured, meeting his gaze through the mirror.