The Villainess Needs a Hug (Ivy Windsor) novel Chapter 335

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Chapter 335

Chapter 335

The words hovered on the tip of her tongue, but Ivy swallowed them back–they really did sound a bit indecent. In the end, she didn’t ask.

Jamison, for his part, was a doctor. He’d seen plenty of men, knew exactly where the average stood, and had no doubts about his own abilities. If the day ever came, he was certain he’d leave her satisfied.

When he made that comment, Ivy didn’t say a word. She simply bent over and focused on tending to his back, all business and concentration.

Warm water washed down over his lower back, carefully avoiding the injured spot near his shoulder blade. Then, her towel moved in gentle circles, wiping away the grime and tension of the day.

With his eyes unable to see her, Jamison’s other senses sharpened. Every brush of her hand across his skin sent a jolt of electricity through him, the sensation so sharp he suddenly had to swallow, Adam’s apple bobbing, a frown flickering across his face.

Maybe it was the heat of the water–or maybe it was just him–but the longer the shower went on, the hotter he felt, warmth building under his skin.

When Ivy still didn’t break the silence, Jamison found his mind wandering, thoughts growing less and less appropriate. He forced himself to rein it in, twisting around to look at her. “What were you about to say?”

Ivy glanced up at him, cheeks flushing even redder, before her gaze darted away. Her words stumbled out, clumsy and halting. “It’s nothing, really… I just, uh, remembered how chaotic things were earlier. I didn’t get a chance to see Silas. I wonder if I’ll have time to visit the village before we leave. He must know I’m

back…”

She was talking about Silas, but in the back of her mind she was distracted: For someone who’s always so busy, how does he find time to work out? His glutes put most women to shame.

Jamison had no idea her thoughts were wandering in that direction. Hearing her mention Silas, he sobered up, pushing aside the muddle in his own head. His voice softened. “If you want to see him, I’ll go with you tomorrow. The villagers said his family’s in a bad way right now. He didn’t show up today–maybe he’s home looking

after his mother.”

“Maybe,” Ivy replied quietly.

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She remembered what the villagers had said: after she escaped, Silas’s father had beaten him badly. His mother had fallen, shattered bones, and now she was bedridden.

It was hell on earth–asking a disabled young man to care for his paralyzed mother, with an abusive alcoholic father lurking at home.

“If you hadn’t gotten out, a family like that would have crushed you eventually,” Jamison said, his voice thick with relief.

Ivy didn’t answer. She couldn’t stop thinking about the misery Silas faced–how unfair it all was.

Some people are born in paradise, lives gilded and easy.

Others open their eyes in the depths of hell, and no matter how hard they struggle, they can’t even claw their way to the surface.

They spend every ounce of strength just trying to survive–and still, through no fault of their own, they suffer endlessly.

The Creator is merciless, she thought.

“All right, that’s enough,” Ivy finally said, straightening up as she finished. She turned off the shower and wiped the wet hair from her face with the back of her hand.

This kind of caretaking work–honestly, it was exhausting. Her back ached so fiercely she thought it might snap in two.

Jamison saw the flush in her cheeks, the fatigue in her eyes, and his heart squeezed with both gratitude and concern. “Thank you,” he said softly. “Once I’m better, I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

“No need,” Ivy replied in her usual calm tone. “You’re only in this mess because of me. Looking after you is the least I can do.”

She slung a towel over his shoulders and helped him out of the bathroom.

She was so tired she could hardly stand. Once Jamison was settled in bed, Ivy slipped back to the bathroom, took a quick shower, and got ready for sleep herself. Jamison lay on his stomach, his handsome face angled toward her.

When Ivy finally crawled into bed, she let out a long, weary sigh–utterly drained. Jamison reached out with his uninjured hand and stroked her cheek softly, a silent gesture of comfort.