Capturing the Young Doctor's Heart: Mr. Big Shot Won't Let Me Go-Chapter 125: Was the Person You Saw a Ghost?
The kiss, scorching and inescapable.
Claire Prescott felt her heart being tossed and turned by him, as if a thick mist lay over her eyes, impenetrable, leaving her unable to see clearly. All she could sense was the boiling blood rushing through her, overwhelming every thought in her mind, leaving her in a daze as she was held and kissed.
She didn’t understand why he had changed so suddenly.
It was as though a hook had caught her heart, tugging at it with strands of pain.
She clutched his cool shirt, and under his confinement, bent backward, turning her head away from his kiss.
Keane Lowell halted, restrained, his vision capturing her tensed shoulder and neck lines, her side profile naturally elegant and her skin as pale as snow, an unadorned beauty that was deeply enticing.
Unable to resist, he buried his head, his lips brushing lightly over that thin skin for a few moments.
So many days passed without seeing her, without touching or holding her.
Her scent was still as intoxicating as ever.
Claire Prescott sensitively squirmed.
Yet.
No matter how she moved, she couldn’t escape his grip.
When he released her, his mark remained, a red bruise on her neck.
The man’s gaze, filled with deep affection, always carried a lingering warmth of love and pity, and she still didn’t fully grasp the depth of his transformation.
Claire Prescott quickly gathered herself: "Weren’t you ignoring me just now? What do these kisses mean?"
Her tone carried a hint of reproach, her clear, glistening eyes reflecting a subtle charm under the light.
Every detail reflected in Keane Lowell’s eyes, as if through her serene face, he saw the image of her as a child, crying bitterly while holding her mother’s corpse.
His Adam’s apple bobbed, and he replied with some difficulty: "Attention."
Just one word, steeped in weight, with nothing more said.
This left Claire Prescott feeling completely at a loss.
Had he let go, or hadn’t he?
But.
With his approach, the long-held tension and chaos in her emotions gradually eased, allowing her to clearly sense the steady, warm woody fragrance on him.
Even her lips still bore his warmth and imprint.
She opened her mouth slightly, "I..."
The words didn’t come out.
Suddenly, someone exited the restroom, shattering the intimate moment between them.
She quickly hid in the man’s embrace.
Keane Lowell glanced at the stunned person at the ladies’ room entrance, then, seemingly unperturbed, wrapped his arm around the young girl’s waist and led her back to the private room.
Under Zane White’s gaze, Claire Prescott shyly pushed away Keane’s hand, not daring to meet his eyes, unsure of how to face him.
Of course.
From the moment they walked in together, Zane White had already realized they had reconciled.
The fresh red hickeys on the young girl’s neck were particularly eye-catching under the light, clearly a sign of reconciliation.
Zane White smiled, teasingly remarking, "What took you so long? We were waiting so long the food almost got cold."
Keane Lowell raised his gaze, a slight warning tone wafting over.
Zane White immediately toned it down, sighing inwardly.
They reconciled so quickly, surely the hero of the hour deserved a place at the main table, some acknowledgement....
Instead, Keane moved the two chairs slightly closer together, though not touching, but seated just opposite him, not requiring a head turn to look at them.
Subliminally, it felt like being sprinkled with dog food.
In the subtle atmosphere.
Claire Prescott composed herself, speaking amiably, "Zane, let’s eat first."
Zane White laughed, "You’re still the thoughtful one, Claire."
The word "thoughtful" made Claire Prescott pause, puzzled.
Could it be that Keane suddenly approached her at his urging?
She didn’t delve deeper.
At this point.
Zane White uncorked a bottle and poured the wine, clinking glasses with Keane, while Claire Prescott silently observed with her floral tea.
During this.
Keane would occasionally help her with food, not overtly intimate, yet there was an inexplicable thick tension in the air between them that Zane couldn’t touch.
The dining atmosphere naturally lightened compared to earlier.
The two brothers didn’t drink much, and by the time dessert arrived, Claire Prescott’s eyes showed little fluctuation.
She just felt a bit helpless looking at the four or five scoops of shaved ice.
It was apparent the man’s attitude toward her had softened, yet the darkness and chill in his eyes hadn’t fully dissipated, still giving her an ambiguous sense of closeness and distance.
Enough.
They were out in public now; they’d settle their accounts at home.
"Is it good?" Zane White asked.
Claire Prescott swallowed the coconut ice, "The texture is crunchy, with a clean sweetness from the water chestnut and coconut blend."
"Hearing you say that makes me want to try it," Zane replied.
However, when Zane ordered, Claire Prescott glanced at Keane.
Keane naturally understood the meaning of her look.
Asking if he wanted to try it.
Yet, after just a brief moment, she averted her gaze, focusing on eating.
So, for the next few minutes, he sat nearby, watching them eat the same food.
When the young girl finished, he paid the bill and then took her hand, telling Zane, "Go back on your own, we won’t be seeing you off."
Quietly, Claire Prescott followed behind him, and as they stepped into the elevator and the doors closed. 𝓯𝙧𝓮𝓮𝒘𝓮𝙗𝙣𝒐𝒗𝒆𝓵.𝓬𝓸𝒎
The man suddenly encircled her waist and bent down to kiss her.
Claire Prescott pushed him away.
Without success.
A warm, broad hand gently pressed on her side waist, and she let out a soft whimper, allowing him to naturally draw closer, savoring her carefully.
The technique was overwhelming.
Above them was a camera, and being in a public place, Claire Prescott’s heart raced to the extreme, her face blooming with a rosy flush.
Only when the elevator stopped did he release her, and she could finally compose herself.
Back in the car.
The man held her in his embrace, his voice low and deep as he said, "Partition."
The driver swiftly raised the partition, driving smoothly.
Claire Prescott stiffly sat on the man’s lap.
The layers of his warm presence and scent enveloped her, permeating her senses, along with the faint smell of alcohol.
His instruction to raise the partition, without reason, made her heart flutter in a chaotic dance.
She couldn’t help but wonder if his gentle yet domineering embrace would lead to something more extreme.
Soon.
The vibrations of his chest revealed a resonant warmth as he asked, "Six years ago, was the person you saw a ghost?"
Claire Prescott’s face instantly froze, not expecting him to bring it up here.
She straightened up to meet those dark eyes, the soft light falling on his refined features, reminiscent of a film scene, regal to the point where one couldn’t look away.
Yet the man’s unreasonable dominance stirred her, making her want to bite him.
"Who told you to be unreasonable first and ignore me?"
