Tempted Trapped and Too Late to Run novel Chapter 596

The doctor set the vial of liquid sedative on the nightstand, his voice barely above a whisper.

“If you want to use this, sir, it’s here. It won’t mend her heart, but at least she’ll get some real sleep.”

Dylan didn’t reply. He just sat there, quietly holding Clara’s hand.

The doctor slipped out, closing the master bedroom door behind him, leaving the room in heavy silence.

Clara’s hand was burning in his.

That little red beaded bracelet she always wore stood out on her pale wrist—he couldn’t look away.

He bent over, pressing her hand to his cheek. His hair fell forward, shielding his eyes and whatever he was feeling.

Her palm was burning up, but the beads felt cool against his skin.

He stayed like that, not moving, his other hand drifting gently to her bandaged shoulder.

The wound wasn’t deep, but just knowing she was hurt made his chest tight.

Clara felt like she was on fire, like someone had tossed her into a furnace and left her there.

She cracked her eyes open, only to be hit by harsh, blinding light. They fluttered shut again, tears squeezing out. Her voice was rough, barely more than a whisper.

“Can you turn off the light?”

Someone listened. The glare disappeared in an instant, darkness settling around her.

She let out a shaky breath, but the heat didn’t let up. Everything felt fuzzy and unreal.

In one moment, she thought she was back in that shabby apartment she’d once called home. In the next, maybe she was here, maybe she was somewhere else.

She rolled over, suddenly aware of a hand holding hers.

“Hot.”

That was all she managed. She squeezed his hand tighter, reaching for something—anything—that might make the burning stop.

Her fingers wandered, searching for relief, but all she found was the steady, cool presence of his hand.

She tugged at him, murmuring, “Be good, Z.”

The hand let go, pulling away fast.

Clara made a sound of protest, fumbling blindly until she found him again.

She forced her eyes open, but everything was blurry, her mind fogged by fever and medication.

She lingered at his lips, then licked her own, like a kitten savoring a secret treat.

He couldn’t help but laugh, the sound soft and low, a real smile tugging at his lips—maybe one no one else had ever seen.

He teased her, voice warm, “So? Did you taste anything? What’s it like?”

Her cheeks were flushed, her shoulder still aching, but she managed to answer, “I don’t know… kind of sweet. Like jelly.”

Dylan laughed, loosening his hold and easing her back onto the bed.

He braced his hands on either side of her, the smile lingering, softer than ever.

Clara didn’t seem to notice, her eyes unfocused as she stared up at him. “Why are you laughing?”

He didn’t answer, and she frowned, pointing vaguely at her own lips.

“Let me try again. Come closer.”

Maybe she didn’t even know what she was saying, maybe she was just dreaming about jelly.

Dylan leaned in, and this time, he kissed her—really kissed her.