Tempting Him to Lose Control

Chapter 130: Chapter 130: He’s Like a Big Dog

After leaving the private room, Claire Kendall pulled Wendy White aside and checked her over from head to toe several times. She only relaxed once she was sure Wendy hadn’t been hurt in any other way.

"Are you in any pain? I’ll take you to the hospital."

Wendy White shook her head. "I’m okay. My friend is waiting outside for me. I’ll go home with her."

"Okay. If you start to feel sick, go to the hospital right away. And call me anytime."

"I know." Wendy White looked at Miles Warren. "Miles, you should hurry and take Claire home to rest."

"Mm."

Miles Warren nodded, his hum of agreement holding a hint of approval.

Claire Kendall glared at Wendy White, who just gave a playful shrug and left.

She glanced at Miles Warren. "What are you staring at?"

"Nothing. It’s just... you’ve never shown that kind of concern for me."

"Is the great Mr. Warren really lacking for people to care about him?" she retorted, snatching her purse from his hand. "You’ve been drinking. I’ll get a cab home myself."

"Claire Kendall, this habit of using people when you need them and tossing them aside the second you don’t—who spoiled you like that?"

"It’s none of your—" Before she could finish, she gasped as Miles Warren swept her up into his arms.

"The driver’s waiting outside. Don’t be so stubborn."

Back at Regency Gardens, Miles Warren carried her into the bedroom.

He helped her unfasten the makeshift bandage.

After a moment of silence, he suddenly asked, "Are you really not going to wear the ring anymore?"

Claire Kendall’s brows furrowed slightly. ’How dare he be the one to bring this up?’

Her voice was cold and muffled. "I don’t like it."

"Is it the ring you don’t like, or the one who gave it to you?"

She hadn’t expected Miles Warren to ask such a question.

Questions about love and like or dislike—such sentimental things sounded jarring coming from the lips of the aloof and dignified Miles Warren.

Claire Kendall wasn’t quite sure how to answer.

He stood up. His tone was casual, yet it carried an authority that permitted no argument.

"A jewelry designer from South Africa will be in Aethel in a couple of days. Go have a new ring custom-made in whatever style you like."

"I don’t want a misunderstanding like today’s to happen again."

He was referring to people thinking they were divorced.

’But the one he never got over is back,’ she thought. ’Isn’t divorce just a matter of time? What’s the point of keeping up this pretense for another day or two?’

Claire Kendall spoke coldly. "And what if it’s the one who gave it to me that I don’t like?"

Miles Warren visibly faltered.

He didn’t look at her, his voice so low it was almost muffled. "Then try to like me."

The fingers hanging at her side tightened, wrinkling the bedsheet beneath them. For some reason, she detected a hint of pleading in his voice.

He kept his eyes lowered, his long lashes concealing his expression as he tended to her.

He was a bit like a big, abandoned dog—quiet and forlorn, as if waiting for someone to take pity on him.

Claire Kendall was taken aback. ’I must be going crazy to have such a delusion about the high and mighty heir to the Warren family.’

He finished packing away the first-aid kit. "Be careful when you shower. Try not to get your foot wet for the next two days." He turned to leave the bedroom.

"Where are you going so late?"

"Back to the hospital."

Seeing his somewhat lonely figure from behind, Claire Kendall felt her heart soften a little.

’Regency Gardens is his house, not to mention he helped me out big time today. As long as he doesn’t bring up divorce, we have to keep making this work somehow.’

Claire Kendall swung her leg slightly, but her words remained sharp. She curled her lip into a cold scoff.

"Do you find this amusing? Running away from home after a little fight."

"And if you’re going to leave, fine. But what’s the deal with sneaking back in the middle of the night?"

She enunciated every word. "Dr. Warren, was it fun washing my underwear?"

The man froze on the spot. Exposed so bluntly, a deep blush spread from the tips of his ears all the way down his neck.

Seeing his flustered expression, some of her anger dissipated.

"Come help me change. My foot hurts. You can just sleep here tonight."

Miles Warren returned to the bedside and leaned over to unzip her dress. His movements were gentle as he carefully pushed her long hair aside, afraid of catching it in the zipper.

Claire Kendall lifted her arms to help, and the zipper slid all the way down her spine.

ZZZIIIP—

The sharp sound was piercingly clear in the quiet bedroom.

"You can do the rest." He placed a nightgown within her reach.

"Miles Warren," Claire Kendall called out, leaning lazily against the headboard without moving an inch. She sounded both imperious and spoiled.

"If you’re going to put on an act, could you at least make your ’thoughtfulness’ a little more convincing?"

She lifted her chin, tugging her dress down a little in a devastatingly alluring way.

The light played across her fair skin, making her look utterly captivating.

The man’s gaze darkened. He averted his eyes, refusing to look at her, but continued to help her.

As he took off one dress and put on the other, his fingers inevitably brushed against her skin.

He touched her waist, the inside of her arm, her... By the time she was in the nightgown, Miles Warren’s ears were beet red, and his breathing had grown ragged.

"Getting shy, Dr. Warren?"

Claire Kendall crooked a pale finger and poked his chest.

"You weren’t so shy when you were dragging me into your ’indulgences.’ And now you’re playing the part of the proper gentleman for me!"

"Claire Kendall..." he murmured, trailing off, knowing he was in the wrong.

She scoffed, then lay down, leaving half the bed for him.

After the lights went out, Claire Kendall could feel the distance he was deliberately maintaining between them.

Sleep wouldn’t come. In the darkness, she looked at the man beside her and understood for the first time what it meant to share a bed but dream different dreams.

’Why won’t he just say it? Why hasn’t he broken this final pretense? Is he trying to leave me with some last shred of dignity? There’s no need.’

Claire Kendall pursed her lips. Staring at the ceiling, she spoke, her voice very quiet.

"Miles Warren... are you in love with Stella Locke?"

The bedroom was silent, the only sound his even, steady breathing.

She turned onto her side, and a wave of intense heat washed over her. She touched Miles Warren’s arm—it was alarmingly hot.

"Miles Warren? Wake up!" She reached over to switch on the bedside lamp.

In the lamplight, his usually cool and aloof face was flushed an unnatural red, his brows tightly knitted together.

His consciousness was hazy from the fever, his breaths coming in rapid, scorching pants.

"Miles Warren, you have a fever," Claire Kendall said, struggling to help him sit up.

The man collapsed against her, burying his head in the crook of her neck. His voice was raw.

"Why... why don’t you like me...?"

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