Watching You Burn In Regret novel Chapter 51

Seren let out an involuntary gasp.

The world dropped away beneath her feet for a second—a dizzying rush—before strong hands caught her by the waist. Suddenly, she found herself staring right into Lennon's eyes, their faces so close she could smell the familiar hint of sandalwood on his skin.

His lips were set in a firm line, his nose straight and well-defined, and above that, his eyes—eyes that were unmistakably amused, a subtle smile glinting in their depths.

Lennon looked at her and laughed softly. "Mrs. Crestwell, are you trying to give me an excuse to hold you?"

Seren's cheeks flamed with embarrassment.

She couldn't blame him for teasing her; scenes like this only ever happened in TV dramas, where romance was stage-managed by fate. In real life, it just felt overwhelmingly contrived.

Seren's gaze darted away, like a startled fawn ready to bolt at any second.

Lennon's expression deepened.

"No, actually, to be precise, it's that I wanted to hold you, Mrs. Crestwell—and you just gave me the perfect chance."

Seren lowered her eyes, unsure how to respond.

She told herself Lennon must have sensed her discomfort and, being the gentleman he was, had changed the subject to make her feel less awkward.

Beyond that, she didn't dare think further.

"Thank you, Mr. Crestwell… If there's nothing else, I'll head back to my room."

She didn't trust herself to stay any longer without making things worse.

But as she turned to leave, Lennon's hand shot out, blocking her path.

Seren's eyes followed the elegant line of his hand—pale, long-fingered, with defined knuckles—until she looked up into his face again.

The warm lamplight poured over him, softening the edges of his casual pajamas, but nothing could diminish the steady, composed air that always seemed to surround him.

At that moment, he looked down at her, the light reflected in his eyes, gentle and luminous.

His voice was calm, as always, warm and reassuring. "Don't go just yet, Mrs. Crestwell. There's something I'd like to say."

The truth was, she'd shut Lennon out without even realizing it. It was an unconscious defense mechanism, something she did with everyone, really.

Even with Sheridan.

Thinking back over the last three years, she and Sheridan had barely been more than polite acquaintances. It wasn't just that Sheridan avoided her; deep down, she'd never truly wanted to reach out to him, either. If anything, she'd preferred when he kept his distance.

So for three years, Sheridan's coldness hadn't hurt her. She'd accepted it almost gratefully.

Suddenly, Seren realized that whatever she'd felt for Sheridan three years ago—if she could even call it that—had never come close to real affection.

Lost in the tide of her thoughts, Seren barely noticed when Lennon's large, warm hand closed gently around her fingers.

His voice rumbled softly above her head.

"I'll do my best, Seren. I want to be someone you can open your heart to. All I ask is that you try not to push me away—not right away, at least."

"There's no rush," he added quietly. "We have all the time in the world. We'll take it slow—one step at a time."