The Heartbreak Prescription novel Chapter 348

Chapter 348

Stanley felt her small hands wandering over his body, her movements frantic with need. In her haste, she tore one of his buttons clean off.

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard, his larger hand closing over hers to still

her.

“Wendy, slow down. I don’t have spare clothes here.”

If his shirt got ruined, he’d have nothing else to wear.

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But Wendy wasn’t cooperating. All she wanted was warmth–more of it, as much as she could get. She slipped her hand free from his grip and buried her face against his neck with a whimper. “I’m so cold…”

Her voice, weakened by illness, came out in a breathy whine, almost childishly sweet.

Not that Stanley needed reminding–even when she wasn’t sick, she knew exactly how to melt into him, all soft sighs and pleading whispers in bed.

She had always been a little temptress.

It had been a long time since he had last tasted it due to their divorce.

Stanley clenched his jaw, fighting the urge–and lost. His fingers found the buttons of her blouse, working them open with deliberate slowness.

Then everything spiraled.

He flipped her beneath him, their hands tangling in fabric–his half–shrugged–off white shirt, her clothes being peeled away. The sharp lines of his shoulder blades flexed as he moved, the deep groove of his spine a stark contrast to the smooth, chilled skin of Wendy’s fingers as they skated up his back.

When he lowered himself against her, their bodies pressed flush–her skin like ice, his burning with barely leashed hunger. A clash of opposites, raw and electric.

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It was dangerous and thrilling.

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In the dim silence of this remote village, the heat between them ignited like a spark to dry kindling, consuming everything in its path.

A sharp gasp escaped Wendy as if she had been scalded.

Stanley stared down at her delicate face–the same face that had always drawn men in without effort. Even now, it hooked him all over again.

He caught her chin between his fingers and crushed his mouth to hers.

Wendy felt like she had been thrown into a furnace. The heat was unbearable, smothering

—she tried to squirm away, but his weight pinned her in place. Then something slid

between her lips, and her brows furrowed in protest, a muffled whimper catching in her throat. Her small hands shoved weakly against his chest.

“G–Get off me…”

The village outside was dead silent. Stanley had no idea how secure this room really was. Fiona–or anyone–could barge in at any second.

He dragged the blanket over them, his voice a rough whisper against her ear.

“Shh. Quiet.”

His lips trailed to her cheek, then the sensitive curve below her ear, his knee nudging her legs apart.

Her entire body tensed, a sharp crease forming between her brows as she twisted away. “No…stop…”

Then-

Wendy’s lashes fluttered wildly, and suddenly, her eyes flew open.

She was awake.

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The first thing she saw was Stanley’s face–his aristocratic features now darkened with something far from gentlemanly.

Why was he here?

Wendy’s mind blanked as she tried hard to recollect her memories.

Stanley’s gaze burned down at her, the edges of his eyes bloodshot. He knew she was awake

now. She stared up at him, dazed, her wide eyes utterly lost–innocent in a way that speared straight through his self–control.