Chapter 49

‎She grabbed her phone, still straddling him, the hem of the sheet slipping from her back, exposing the smooth curve of her spine to his hungry gaze. Her fingers fumbled with the screen as she glanced at the caller ID, sighing in relief when she saw it was nothing urgent. With a flick of her thumb, she silenced the call and tossed the phone aside, letting it land softly on the mattress.

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‎“I’ll call them back later,” she said, her voice low and smoky now, very different from the shy mumble moments before.

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‎He raised a brow, lips curving into a slow, knowing smile. “Oh? And what changed your mind?”

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‎She met his eyes with a boldness that hadn't been there earlier, her confidence returning as the weight of the night settled back into her limbs and memory. She leaned down, her chest brushing against his, their skin sparking with heat where it met. Her lips hovered just above his, barely touching.

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‎“Maybe I remembered how good last night felt,” she whispered, her breath teasing his lips.

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‎He groaned softly, his hands sliding up the bare skin of her thighs, gripping her hips. “You drive me insane, you know that?”

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‎Her smile deepened. “Good.”

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‎Without another word, she kissed him, slowly at first, teasingly. Their lips moved together, mouths parting in a rhythm that grew hotter, deeper, more desperate. Her hands tangled in his hair as he rolled them over, pinning her beneath him. The kiss broke for a second, both of them breathless, their bodies flush.

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‎His mouth trailed down her neck, tasting the delicate skin there, while his hands explored her body like he was memorizing every inch all over again. She arched into him, her back lifting off the sheets as soft moans escaped her lips.

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‎“You’re addictive,” he murmured against her collarbone, his voice husky.

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‎She tugged him closer, fingers clawing gently at his back. “Then don’t stop.”

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‎Sheets rustled. Skin met skin. And the morning sun bore silent witness as they surrendered once more to the fire burning between them, intense, slow, and unrelenting.

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‎On Edward end, he was on his side of the room, replying to an email on his sleek tablet. The soft light lit up his face, which looked calm and professional. However, this hid the previous night's events. He heard a groan and smirked. He looked at Claire, who was now awake. Her naked body was a breathtaking sight. His eyes darkened with desire.

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‎ He cleared his throat and said, "You slept so long I thought you might not wake up." The words were teasing and condescending.

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‎Claire's body became stiff. She felt a cold dread as his gaze felt like a physical touch. The duvet felt insufficient, and she pulled it up to her chin. The memories of the night before began to come back. A drink. A heavy lethargy. Her consciousness fading into darkness. The truth hit her. She had been drugged. Her anger turned into a furious blaze.

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‎She sprang from the bed. She lunged at him, her fists flying.

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‎Edward was surprised by her actions. He held up his hands, letting her punch him.

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‎A strange heat went through him. "Do you even know what you're doing?" he asked, a smirk on his lips. This fueled her rage.

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‎"You're a pervert! I can't believe you would stoop so low!" she screamed. Tears filled her eyes.

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‎The sight of her tears confused Edward. His heat vanished. "Why are you crying?" he asked, reaching out to her.

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‎She stepped back as if burned. The anger in his voice made her angrier.

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‎"Don't act innocent!" she snarled. She slapped him across the face.

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‎Edward touched his cheek in disbelief. A cold aura radiated from him. "How dare you raise your hand to me?" he said. He stood up, making her back away.

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‎She stumbled back, holding the duvet tighter. The fingerprint on his cheek and the fury in his eyes made her tremble. "Don't you dare play the victim here!" she said, tears streaming down her face. "You drugged me to get me into your bed!" Before she could finish, she started to cry again.

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‎Hearing her words left him stunned. The realization hit him like a cold wave, she had been drugged. That was why she had approached him so willingly the night before, why she hadn’t resisted during their intimacy. It all made sense now, and it crushed him.

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‎But what hurt even more was the look in her eyes, filled with confusion, pain, and betrayal. She must have believed he was the one who drugged her. The thought alone was unbearable. Watching her break down, seeing the tears stream down her face, he felt something deep inside him shatter. A heavy guilt settled over him, and with it, a vow took root in his heart.

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‎"I didn’t know you were drugged… and you didn’t tell me," he said, his voice low, sounding remorseful. "If I had known, I would never have touched you."

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‎She cried harder, struggling in his embrace, trying to push him away. But he held her tightly, refusing to let go, grounding her in his arms until her sobs finally began to subside. He didn’t care if she hated him right now. All he wanted was to be there for her, to protect her, to make this right somehow.

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‎"I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you," he whispered, pressing a kiss to her hair, his fingers gently stroking her head in a soothing rhythm.

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‎The gesture surprised even him. Just days ago, he would’ve laughed at the idea of comforting a woman like this, of showing softness, of petting someone like they meant the world to him. If anyone had suggested he’d one day find himself doing this, he would have scoffed in disbelief.

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‎And yet, here he was, holding her like she was his everything. Petting her gently. Trying to calm the storm he never meant to cause. His amor, his love, even in pain, even when she wasn’t sure what to believe, she meant more to him than anything.

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