Chapter 388
[ 489 words ]
Chapter 388:
Jarrod leaned in and captured a tear with his lips, a kiss as soft and reverent as the first had been brutal.
He looked down at her, a ghost of a smile touching his lips for the first time. “Besides,” he said, his voice a low rumble. “Your execution was sloppy. The plan had a dozen holes in it.”
A small, watery laugh escaped her, followed by an indignant sniffle.
He chuckled, a real, warm sound. “We’ll work on your tactical planning later.”
𝗔𝗱𝖽𝘪𝗰𝘵𝗂ve 𝘯𝗈𝘃𝗲𝘭ѕ 𝗈𝗻 𝗴аlnо𝘷𝗲𝗹𝘀.co𝗺
And then he kissed her again. This time, there was no desperation, no punishment. It was just pure, unadulterated affection. A kiss of promises kept and a future shared.
The second kiss was slower, deeper. It was a conversation without words, a confirmation of the vow he had just made. Caroline met his kiss with an eagerness that surprised them both. For the first time in their tumultuous relationship, she wasn’t reacting or surrendering; she was participating, an equal partner in the raw emotion flowing between them.
He responded to her newfound boldness, his breath catching in his throat. His left hand cupped the back of her head, fingers threading through her hair, while he kept his right arm pinned stiffly against his side, carefully navigating the rigid bulk of the splint beneath his clothing to avoid placing any pressure on his fractured frame.
The press of their bodies was electric. As he shifted to get closer, a barely perceptible wince crossed his face. His entire torso stiffened for a fraction of a second, a flicker of pain he instantly tried to conceal behind the wall of his own composure.
He was fast, but she was faster. She felt it—the subtle, involuntary tightening of his muscles, the sharp intake of breath he tried to swallow.
The kiss continued, but a seed of suspicion had been planted. Her mind, hyper-aware, started cataloging data. Then, in his passion, he shifted his weight again, his side bracing heavily against the furniture as he accidentally pressed down on her bandaged arm.
A sharp jolt of pain shot from her wrist to her shoulder. A small, involuntary cry escaped her lips.
Instantly, he pulled back as if he’d been burned. The passion in his eyes was replaced by a fresh wave of horror and self-reproach.
“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice rough with guilt. “God, Caroline, I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?”
He immediately began examining her arm, his touch now clinical and gentle, his face a mask of frustration with himself.
She shook her head, the pain already subsiding. “It’s okay. I’m fine.” But her eyes weren’t on her own injury. They were fixed on his face, her gaze sharp and analytical. “Jarrod. Are you hurt?”
His eyes flickered away from hers for a split second. “No. I’m fine.” It was a blatant lie.
He leaned in again, trying to use another kiss as a distraction, a way to end the interrogation. She put her good hand on his chest, stopping him.
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