His slender lips paused on hers for a fleeting two seconds, leaving Moira acutely aware of their soft, warm touch.

"What happens after the kiss?" His voice was deep and velvety, oddly captivating.

As his soft lips withdrew, a trace of reluctance tugged at her heart.

Moira blinked, locking eyes with Barclay's piercing gaze, and before she could stop herself, she uttered, "I still want to kiss."

Moira thought, 'My entire body went rigid. When had I become so bold? Am I losing my mind? How could I utter such words? Just stop and think.' Barclay regarded her, his dark eyes inscrutable. There was a flicker of surprise, quickly masked by his usual composure.

He raised his hand and firmly placed it on the back of her head.

Moira watched in disbelief as he leaned in for a second kiss, her heart pounding in her chest, her breaths growing quicker with anticipation.

But just as their lips were about to meet again, Barclay unexpectedly withdrew.

He stepped back, his brow furrowing slightly. "I'll escort you to the hospital."

The familiar scent of sandalwood suddenly felt distant, and Moira found herself instinctively drawn closer.

With Barclay retreating a step, she found herself moving forward, catching the faint scent of fresh wood with a hint of longing. With a touch of greed, she reached out and wrapped her arms around his sturdy waist she had longed to embrace. "May I have a hug?"

expressive, held a poignant yet appealing allure, inviting both sympathy and a deeper

voice thundered: How could I let such a golden opportunity slip away? I'm utterly useless! Normally, I'm too timid even to consider touching him, but now, with a drink clouding my senses and possibly something in the drink

over the edge. "Please, Mr. Covington, take

get to the hospital soon, she feared she

not only desired a comforting embrace but also yearned

embraces were no longer

had she become so

up on

tone

swiftly scooped her i "Alright,

hospital now."

his

he carried her into the garage, swiftly settling Moira

assessed her temperature by

hand to

her body. The scent of

sanity. Could a rational person

the journey, she leaned her head against the car window,

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