Chapter 287
How could he let her go?
Instead of releasing, he pulled her petite frame even closer, wrapping her entirely in his embrace.
Leanne couldn’t break free from the iron grip that held her, her legs the only part of her still free to move, so she kicked at his legs in protest.
The kick didn’t wake him up; instead, a large hand caught her ankle.
Half-asleep, he lifted her leg to his waist, his hand sliding up her smooth calf.
Nuzzling into the crook of Leanne’s neck, Curtis’ voice was a groggy murmur filled with longing, “Honey, don’t go…”
His hot breath against her skin soon left a blush on Leanne’s fair complexion.
She was both angry and annoyed, slapping him across the face. That seemed to finally wake him up a bit, his heavy eyes half-opening
Seeing Leanne’s face flushed red, those deep, glossy eyes glaring at him fiercely.
Blinking confusedly for a moment, Curtis slowly came to his senses.
His hand, which had been wandering, halted, pulling away from where it shouldn’t have been, and he raised it in a gesture of surrender.
“Sorry, I thought I was dreaming.”
Curtis looked at her with a face pale and weak from illness, his eyelids red and eyes bleary, making even the big bad wolf look innocent.
Leanne was still furious, frowning delicately, “So you just touch whatever in your dream Curtis raised an eyebrow, a raspy voice tinged with a helpless chuckle, “You’re going to control what I do in my dreams too? So bossy.
Leanne’s lips pressed tightly together, “Let me down.”
Curtis moved back slightly, “My bad, got a fever. If you’re mad, want to hit me again?”
His gray silk robe had become loose overnight, the slightly open neckline revealing a glimpse of chest. The disheveled, just-woke-up look was both lazy and comfortable, suggesting vulnerability.
In a coaxing tone, low and gentle, he took her hand and patted his own face with it.
Leanne pulled her hand away forcefully, sat up and jumped down from the bed, heading back to the bedroom without another word.
1/2
09:53 0
She got dressed and went into the kitchen to make a sandwich for Curtis, packing eggs and toast for herself in a zip-lock bag.
Not once did she look at him again.
She was mad.
Curtis leaned back on the couch, ran a hand through his messy hair, and sighed. All the good behavior from yesterday was for naught; he’d managed to annoy her in just one night.
Leanne poured the hot tea she’d made into a thermos. Its sweet fragrance wafting over, directly into Curtis’ heart.
She’d made this special treat for him; she must still care. That’s just how she is, tough on the outside but…
She put the thermos in her bag and walked to the foyer, bending down to change shoes.
Curtis hadn’t fully savored the sweetness in his heart before it dissipated.
Watching her silent figure, he couldn’t help but ask, “Is it not for me?”
Leanne looked up, “What?”
At least she was talking to him.
“Your tea,” he said, “Wasn’t it made for me?”
“I made it for myself.” Leanne’s voice was still cold as she tied her shoelaces, “There’s more in the pot, help yourself.”
With that, she opened the door and left.
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