Tempted Trapped and Too Late to Run

Chapter 20

Clara blinked open her dreamy eyes, trying to focus on him, but everything was still a blur. She forced herself to reach out, grasping the hand he had resting on the wheelchair.

He didn't pull away, but he kept a respectful distance. Clara placed his hand on her cheek, her breath warm as she whispered, "Water... I need water..." The heat was unbearable.

Dylan suddenly gripped her chin, making her look at him. "Do you even know who I am?" he asked.

Clara had no idea; all she could think about was how desperately thirsty she was. Even his hand on her chin seemed oddly appealing. She kissed his fingers, moving up to his palm. Dylan's hand jerked slightly, and his Adam's apple bobbed as he wheeled away. Without the wheelchair's support, she collapsed onto the carpet.

The room was cool, and she watched as he headed to the bathroom. Soon she could hear water running. Clara curled up on the carpet, feeling like a thousand ants were crawling over her, itching her to the bone.

sweat slicking her skin. Twenty minutes later, she was drenched in sweat, her hair sticking to

her into a tub filled with cold water. The sudden clash of hot and cold made her shiver violently. For a moment, her head cleared, and she sat there, lips pressed together, soaking in the tub. Dylan's expensive suit was now damp with water spots. He sat in his

shivered again, and was about to say she was fine, but then the heat surged back, more intense than before. She

even more. Clara kneeled in the tub, cupping his face, urgently kissing him. How could he be so cold, even when kissing? Her tongue pried his lips apart, seeking more. The next thing she knew, she

the wheelchair's armrests. The

breath, she submerged her face in cold water until the heat ebbed, then slowly rose from the tub. As she stepped out, she nearly slipped, her knees almost hitting the ground. The feverish heat was gone, replaced

His suit was visibly damp but he was unruffled. His hands folded in front of him as his eyes met hers. "Better

Mr. Dylan,

of documents on the bed. "Take a look. They might

influential families. This was crucial information for someone like her, struggling with amnesia. Dylan began unbuttoning his suit, pausing as he noticed Clara's gaze. His eyebrows knitted together. "You should step out," he