Tempted Trapped and Too Late to Run

Z was just an ordinary waitress-a regular girl working hard to get by, a little fragile, a little too sensitive for her own good. Whenever he leaned on her, it hit her all over again: she absolutely couldn't just walk away from someone who needed her.

Z reminded people of a small animal, the kind that made you want to protect it, even when it wasn't doing anything at all. She just had that effect; people's hearts softened around her without even realizing it.

But Dylan? He was nothing like that. Everyone knew how tough Dylan was. If you told someone you wanted to protect him, they'd probably laugh in your face-and Dylan would laugh the loudest. His rare moments of vulnerability felt more like a predator playing at weakness, like a wolf luring you in. The second you let your guard down, he'd bite down and never let go.

Clara had always trusted her gut, and every time Dylan let his guard down around her, she got uneasy, like she needed to get out before she got pulled in too deep. If he hadn't been injured, she probably would've slipped away already-no need to stick around and make things weird for herself.

She helped him downstairs, moving slowly, Dylan's head resting right in the curve of her neck, like he had no intention of moving away. It felt like he was putting most of his weight on her, making every step a challenge. Sweat started to trickle down her back.noveldrama

He wasn't even unconscious. Couldn't he at least try to support himself?

Irritation bubbled up inside her. Just as they reached the car, she froze for a second. What was that warm, lingering touch on her neck?

She shoved him into the back seat, her face set and cool as she watched him. Dylan slumped back, eyes closed, lips a little flushed, looking like he was about to pass out.

Clara let out a slow breath-maybe she was just imagining things.

She quickly closed the door and leaned up to tell Aiden, "Let's go."

The car slipped smoothly onto the road.

Clara sat next to Dylan, watching the city blur by through the window, unable to say what she really wanted-I just want to go home.

When they slowed near Palm Bay, she caught sight of a car she recognized- Simon's.

For some reason, seeing Simon here made her feel a little less alone.

But Aiden didn't stop; if anything, he stepped on the gas.

Clara finally spoke up. "Aiden, could you pull over for a minute? I want to talk to Simon."

Maybe talking to Simon would help her figure out what was happening outside this bubble.

But Aiden's voice was cold. “Ma'am, you're

shouldn't be meeting with your let

ex-fiancé."

That word-ex-fiancé-hit her hard, leaving her momentarily speechless.

It took her a few seconds to find her voice. "I never wanted this marriage," she shot back.

But as soon as she got the words out, the car was already turning through the heavy gates, coming to a stop inside.

Clara turned her head and found Dylan watching her, eyes open.

Her heart skipped a beat. Maybe it was too harsh to say something like that while he was hurt.

But he didn't look at her for long. He told Aiden, "Take us home."

There was still a stretch of driveway left.

Aiden hit the gas again.

When they finally pulled up outside the big house, Dylan was eased into a wheelchair. Even now, with everything he'd been through, his back was straight, his pride untouched.

Clara stayed in the car for a second, thinking maybe he really did care about what she'd said.

She got out and trailed behind them, nerves fluttering in her stomach.

She followed them all the way into Dylan's bedroom. Once Aiden left, Dylan reached for the wall, trying to haul himself up. The veins in his hands stood out, every muscle tense. He was clearly pushing himself, but he just couldn't do it alone.

Clara hesitated, then finally stepped forward to help him up.

Dylan's palm landed on the back of her hand, burning hot.

He didn't have a fever, but the heat of his touch left Clara feeling scorched, like she'd been marked by him.