Tempted Trapped and Too Late to Run

Chapter 29

Clara found herself back at the hotel tonight, once again lounging in Dylan's suite. She'd taken his room card with her when she left home that morning. After a grueling day tangled up in real estate dealings, she swiped the card and entered, too worn out to question anything.

She sank into the sofa, stifling a yawn. In her sleepy haze, she heard the sound of running water from the master bathroom. Looking up, she spotted Dylan.

There he was, drying his hair with only a towel wrapped low around his waist. He wasn't in his wheelchair now. His feet were planted firmly on the ground, though his steps were painstakingly slow.

Clara snapped out of her daze and jumped up from the sofa. Dylan stood still, casually running the towel over his hair, glancing at the door, probably wondering how she'd gotten in.

It was the first time she'd seen him with his chest bare. Water droplets trailed down from his neck, tracing the firm lines of his torso before disappearing beneath the towel. She quickly looked away. "Oh, Mr. Dylan, fancy seeing you here."

"This is my room."

a flush of embarrassment. She must have been too exhausted to think clearly, and let herself in without a second thought. Dylan moved slowly, needing to brace himself against the wall or furniture. Yet, his back was straight, like a resilient oak standing tall against a storm, exuding

by the arm. "Sorry, I'm

He pulled his arm away, his face unreadable. "You can crash on the sofa

yawned again. When you're really tired, your mind aches, and it feels like

to leave. But she paused when she saw him heading for the hairdryer.

your hair? Let

grab the hairdryer from the cabinet, but the plug swung and accidentally hit her

stand, was knocked back onto the large bed

what had happened and quickly turned around. In the process, her clothing snagged on Dylan's towel

a glimpse, she couldn't help

his gaze aside, and rigidly braced his arm against

the nearby blanket over his lower half. Clara opened her eyes, careful not to look at his direction. "Alright, Mr. Dylan,