Chapter 6

Sawyer chuckled and tilted his head as he stared at Madeline's icy reflection in the mirror. From just one look, he could tell that she was unhappy. Still, he enjoyed it. He liked seeing her plump face go stiff with irritation.

He ran his tongue hard along his itchy molars, wanting badly to pinch her soft, chubby cheek until it popped, just to scratch that inexplicable itch in his chest.

The silent hair dryer couldn't drown out his ill-intentioned laughter. Madeline could only keep her expression grim as she kept working, pretending that she hadn't heard a thing.

Sawyer's hair was on the longer side and cut stylishly. At the office, he always wore a slicked-back look that radiated authority. But when it was freshly washed and left alone, it fell into messy soft locks, with a longer fringe over his forehead.

As Madeline blow-dried his hair, her fingers inevitably slid through those strands. Something suggestive quietly spread in the space between them.

Sawyer's eyelids drooped as he fought sleep, but he still forced himself to watch Madeline in the mirror. The occasional soft touch on his scalp was so comfortable that it made him drowsy.

A few minutes later, Madeline put down the hair dryer. "Mr. Holt, you're all set."

She didn't get a response. She turned back to see that Sawyer had already nodded off, his head tilted to the side. Without her hand supporting him, his head was slowly drifting toward the floor.

She rushed to catch him, then jerked her hand back on reflex. She tugged a towel free and used it as a cushion to prop his face up.

"Wake up, Mr. Holt. Go sleep on the bed."

His sharp brows pinched together. He carelessly shoved the uncomfortable towel off his cheek and grabbed her hand, pressing it back to his face. The cool, soft touch made him let out a quiet, relieved breath. "Head… rub. Head hurts."

He mumbled the request, his eyelids too heavy to open.

Madeline froze, as if facing a formidable enemy. She was terrified that Sawyer would open his eyes and see them touching. However, his skin was burning. He was feverish and out of it. She couldn't bring herself to refuse him right now.

Her hands trembled as she gently massaged his temples, but he wouldn't behave. Wherever her hand moved, his head followed, unwilling to let go of that cool sensation.

She had no choice but to haul him upright. She held her breath as she wrapped an arm around his waist, staggering as she pulled his tall frame to the bed.

She had barely lifted a hand to wipe the sweat from her face when he caught it again. He stared right at her and commanded, "Rub. Don't stop."

Madeline flinched, thinking that Sawyer was about to scold her for grabbing his waist. Fortunately, he didn't. He shut his eyes again.

She sighed in relief, pulled the blanket over him, then sat by the bed and massaged his forehead and ears. Under the soft, dim glow of the bedside lamp, the atmosphere took on a tender undercurrent of safety. Sawyer felt comforted and gradually sank into deeper sleep.

Madeline greedily drank in his striking features, even breathing lighter so she wouldn't disturb him. This was a moment she had been too afraid to even dream of for seven years—to be this close to him, to touch him, and to keep him company.

Her heart swelled, and she almost wanted to cry. She didn't regret secretly coming to his side, even if this one moment was all she got.

She knew that she was selfish. She knew that he feared women, yet she had insisted on showing up in his life.

But she truly couldn't help it. The longing was driving her mad. She'd only made it through the past seven years of her secret love for him by clinging to thoughts of him, which helped her endure countless sleepless nights and nightmares.

Madeline would never forget how, in that alley, Sawyer had pulled her away from those delinquent classmates who were seconds away from getting what they wanted.

He had dragged her out of hell.

She would also never forget how he had fought those guys to protect her. He had even leveraged his background to get those well-connected criminals sent to prison.

She knew that if he hadn't revealed who he was and demanded that they face real consequences, those privileged jerks who hadn't succeeded in doing anything that night would never have been convicted.

They were given heavy sentences, and it was clear that Sawyer had played a huge part in that. He was also the reason that their other crimes were brought to light. They were rotten to the core and had already hurt several other female students.

Madeline was the unfortunate one who had gotten lucky. Luckier still, she'd met Sawyer.

She would love him for the rest of her life.

Sawyer had gynophobia and hated women who showed any desire for him. So, she decided to keep her feelings hidden. She would be happy enough just to be able to stay by his side.

But now, she felt a little greedy, though she knew that she shouldn't.

Madeline looked at Sawyer's hand. She tried to suppress her desire as her fear and impulse clashed. She hated herself for it. She had promised to be disciplined and never to touch him, yet desire now crept in. She couldn't stop the thought of stealing a kiss.

She knew that if she missed this chance, she might never get another.

She was terrified, torn, and yearning as she stared at that hand for half an hour. Cold sweat drenched her, yet she was still too afraid to move.

"I will never hurt you."

Her whisper was so soft that only she could hear it. She was afraid Sawyer would be disgusted if he heard her. It was also a warning to herself not to be greedy. She couldn't afford such greed.

Madeline shot to her feet and walked out, closing the door behind her. The barrier cut them off and severed her temptation.

Her breathing came rapidly as she leaned against the wall. She bit the back of her hand hard, unaware that she'd broken the skin. She tilted her head back, refusing to let the bitter tears fall.

She gasped for air like a fish out of water, staying like that until her gaze gradually calmed. Then, she reined herself in and warned, "Don't be greedy. Don't touch him. He'll break. Things are already good as they are."

She loved him carefully. Even if her desire swelled, she would choke it down. She would not hurt him—not in the slightest.

…

The morning light slowly swallowed the suffocating darkness. As the radiant sun strolled into the sky, golden rays poured into every home.

Madeline dozed fitfully on the dining table. The moment sunlight shone on her face, she frowned and opened her eyes. She lifted her wrist to check the time and saw that it was just past 5:00 am.

She pressed a palm to her head, and a thought jolted her muddled brain. She sprang to her feet, then dropped to her knees as her legs went numb.

She bit down hard on her lower lip to keep herself from making any sounds, her expression twisted with pain. She had slept sitting up for half the night, and the pins-and-needles when she moved made her scalp prickle.

She stayed perfectly still for a long while before her legs returned to normal. By then, she was drenched in sweat.

Madeline was soft and a little chubby these days; any exertion left her sweaty. She glanced at the guest bedroom door, which was tightly shut, and decided against using the bathroom there.

Sawyer was still wary of her. He had snapped at her for touching things before. Only in the past two months had things gotten slightly better. She couldn't provoke him. She had to know her place.

Madeline peeked in on Sawyer. When she saw him sleeping soundly, she touched his forehead lightly to find that it was no longer hot. She finally felt relieved enough to retreat.

She packed a fresh change of clothes from her luggage, grabbed her phone, and headed out. There was a 24-hour bathhouse in the neighborhood. She made straight for it and booked a masseuse to give her a full-body scrub and a milk bath. It washed off the exhaustion clinging to her.

By the time she came out, nearly two hours had passed. Afraid that Sawyer would lose his temper if he were to wake up and find her missing, she bought breakfast and hurried back.

Unfortunately, she was still a step too late.