Tempted Trapped and Too Late to Run

Chapter 72

When Clara woke up, the sunlight streaming through the window hit her eyes like a spotlight. Everything around her felt unfamiliar, wrapped in understated

elegance. She sat up in bed, gingerly touching her forehead, feeling the ache beneath the bandage wrapped around it.

The bedroom was spacious, every corner whispering luxury. Suddenly, the memory of the last face she saw before passing out hit her-Dylan. Sure enough, there he was at the door, still in his wheelchair, carefully balancing a bowl of oatmeal as he wheeled over and placed it on the bedside table.

"Feeling better?" he asked, his voice calm yet concerned.

It was hard not to feel a rush of gratitude. Just last night, she thought she might not make it. "Yeah. Is your leg okay?" Even though her memory was foggy, she remembered him kicking a man away, risking his own recovery. If anything happened to his leg, she'd feel guilty forever.

"It's fine," he reassured her, lifting the bowl and handing it to her.

mix of surprise and gratitude as she took it with both hands. Dylan turned away, his tone composed. "Take it easy today. You don't

was already the next day. The thought of last night's

the oatmeal and glimpsing him, settling into the

clothes, shedding his usual aloofness for a softer look. Clara quickly

had risked his injury to help her and even brought

her a brief glance. He was an enigma. In a suit, he seemed so distant, but here at home, he was

girls in the city harbored

"Sure," he agreed.

placing her hands on his leg to start the massage. She wasn't lying about knowing how to massage. Even with the gaps in her memory, she felt

could get a bit intimate. Her fingers slowly worked their way up, getting close to the top of his thigh. After

he caught her wrist, and she looked up, puzzled. His gaze was steady, though his thumb brushed