Driving home, Jude Sinclair was already asleep.
Desmond Fairchild gently carried Seraphina Sinclair back to the room, inhaling the strong scent of alcohol on her, causing his brows to furrow.
"Seraphina Sinclair." He softly called her name.
Seraphina, deep in her drunken stupor, attempted to respond, but nothing came out despite a faint trace of consciousness remaining.
Left with no choice, Desmond reluctantly started to remove her shoes and coat. Underneath was a simple silk shirt.
Seraphina had a great figure, appearing slim, yet with all the right curves.
Her face was flushed; she uncomfortably shifted and pulled down her collar halfway, pouting, her long eyelashes fluttering. Desmond couldn’t help but recall that night at The Crown Hotel five years ago, her innocence and passion.
Desmond turned his eyes away, his throat feeling dry.
He always thought himself to have good self-restraint in these matters, but in front of Seraphina, his cherished self-control seemed to collapse instantly.
She didn’t even need to do anything on purpose; just a couple more glances and his thoughts would wander.
Desmond let go of Seraphina’s coat, quickly got up, and rushed to the bathroom to wash his face with cold water, thus feeling somewhat clear-headed.
Returning to the bedroom, he swiftly undressed Seraphina and carried her to the bathroom, intending to finish her bath as quickly as possible.
However, when wiping her body, the uneven texture under his fingertips made him frown. He turned his head to look, and an icy feeling crept into his chest.
He never would have guessed the glamorous Seraphina had such a large burn scar on her back.
From the shoulder blades down to the tailbone, almost her entire back was covered with unsightly scars.
Even though he had experienced much, he couldn’t imagine how such a severe burn occurred, nor could he fathom how Seraphina had endured it.
Back then, she must have been in terrible pain, right? But where did these scars come from? Her dignified manner and extravagant lifestyle didn’t seem like they belonged to someone from an impoverished family.
Desmond, who always thought himself cold and indifferent, felt a painful tug at his heart upon seeing these scars. The earlier heat in his heart also calmed down, leaving only heartache.
Desmond finished her bath, dressed her in clean sleepwear, and gently placed her on the bed.
His large hand brushed over her sleeping face, and a trace of tenderness seeped from his deep black eyes.
"Though I don’t know what you’ve been through, from now on, you have me." Desmond gazed deeply at Seraphina, vowing to protect her as long as he was around.
He stayed by her side until she slept peacefully, then got up to leave.
Yet before he could stand, Seraphina held onto his hand tightly.
He heard her voice, tinged with tears and fear: "Don’t go, don’t leave, I’m scared." ᴛʜɪs ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ɪs ᴜᴘᴅᴀᴛᴇ ʙʏ novel·fire.net
The soft and pitiful words caused a ripple in Desmond’s long-quiet heart. He tightened his throat, then gently clasped her small hand back, his deep, hoarse voice filled with endless compassion: "Don’t be afraid, I’m not going anywhere."
He sighed helplessly and could only lift the thin blanket to lie down beside her.
The girl beside him seemed to find comfort in him, like a kitten finding a warm pillow, instinctively moving closer, wrapping her slender arms around Desmond’s firm waist, nestling her head against his chest, and finding the most comfortable position before falling into a deep sleep.
Little did she know, this series of actions ignited the fire he had managed to suppress in his heart. Desmond gritted his teeth and, looking at the petite woman curled up like a kitten in his arms, took a few deep breaths to barely restrain his primal desires.
Damn it, does this woman even know what restraint means!