Capturing the Young Doctor's Heart: Mr. Big Shot Won't Let Me Go-Chapter 190: I Don’t Like How You Are

Her voice was soft and weak, the words she spoke left people defenseless, like a breeze gently ruffling the most tender parts of one’s heart.

Keane Lowell turned around, his gaze tenderly settling on her tipsy, lovely demeanor.

Her exquisite face blushed with a hint of red, as if shrouded in a mesmerizing mist, ethereal and captivating, her gaze looked so innocent.

"How much did you drink? Your tolerance is so poor."

But she insisted, "Who says I can’t hold my liquor? I can drink more. I haven’t even toasted with you yet."

Saying that, she pulled him back to the dining table, picked up their glasses, gave one to him, and then clinked them with a force neither too light nor too heavy, "Cheers."

Keane didn’t stop her this time and drank the remaining wine with her.

"Are you satisfied, baby?"

The young girl hesitated for a moment, then rolled up her sleeves and showed her arm to him, "Did you see that? I’ve got goosebumps, it’s too cheesy."

In fact.

There was nothing on her arm, her skin remained as smooth and fair as ever.

Keane smiled warmly, unable to resist pulling her into his arms, kissing her cheek, and knowingly asked, "Where is it cheesy?"

The young girl shyly lowered her head, burying her face in his embrace, "Cheesy as it is, but..."

"But what?"

She grasped his hand and placed it on her chest, raising her head slightly, looking at him earnestly, "But, every time I hear it, my heart races, and I can’t help but want to kiss you."

"I never stopped you from kissing."

The young girl paused, holding his waist, her gaze lingering on him, swallowing once, her lips slowly moving closer.

But she halted midway, hesitating to kiss or not, whispering near his lips, "Let’s go upstairs."

Keane deliberately asked, "Why go upstairs?"

"I want to kiss you."

"Can’t you kiss here?"

"Can we go upstairs, please?" She pleaded, arms wrapped around his shoulders.

Indeed, she was drunk, saying whatever came to mind, completely ignoring what he was saying.

Yet her words held the most fatal allure, making him unable to resist hugging her, unable to deny her request.

So, he supported her thighs, and she naturally climbed up, stealing a kiss on his cheek.

He paused for a moment, then steadily carried her upstairs.

Unexpectedly, still on the stairs, the young girl sought his lips, kissing him, causing his breath to deepen, and he held her tighter.

Her initiative always drew him in, regardless of the moment.

His Adam’s apple moved as he restrained himself from responding, completing the remaining steps.

Finally, entering the bedroom, her kiss suddenly intensified, seemingly driven by a primal desire for him, entangling with him.

The shirt buttons were quickly undone, rolling onto the floor, the shirt pulled askew, exposing his entire left shoulder to the air.

Her kiss fell upon it.

Almost... every action mimicked his previous ones.

Keane’s eyes, as deep as the night, watched her intensely, lowly calling her ’baby,’ speaking word by word, "Do you want to kiss, or to have me?"

At these words.

The young girl paused, slowly lifted her head to meet his gaze, her eyes glinting with playful mischievousness, whispering in his ear, "Of course, I want to eat you... you smell so good."

"..."

Keane couldn’t handle her.

In the next moment.

She struggled off him, pulling him to the single sofa next to the dressing mirror.

She then knelt upon him, with a click, skillfully unbuckling his belt.

Keane, using the last shred of reason, grasped her hand, looked into her innocent eyes, "Baby, do you know what you’re doing?"

"Of course, didn’t you say you wanted it in front of the mirror?"

Keane: "Will you regret this when you wake up tomorrow?"

"No."

"That’s what you said."

She seemed to sense something was amiss, hesitating for a moment.

However, Keane didn’t give her time to regret, kissing her, fully engrossed in their joy, coaxing, "Baby, keep undressing."

...

The next day.

Claire Prescott woke up in bed, feeling as if her body had been run over.

She looked dazedly at the ceiling, trying to recall what happened last night...

Drinking with him, then saying to go upstairs to kiss him, what happened afterward, she had no recollection.

However, despite the blackout, given her current situation, it was clear they had rolled in the sheets last night.

It happened so many times, she accepted it calmly.

So, she composedly pushed off the covers, sat up, wearing a man’s shirt, headed to the bathroom to freshen up.

Afterwards.

As usual, she found clothes in the wardrobe, trying on which to wear in front of the dressing mirror.

Her expression paused as a fragment flashed through her mind.

As she tried to recall what happened.

The man suddenly burst through the door. She looked towards him, meeting his deep gaze.

For some reason, her face flushed with heat.

"Awake?" The man wrapped his arms around her waist, kissing her lightly, "Do you remember what happened last night?"

She initially didn’t want to ask, slept they did, it wasn’t their first time, but something felt amiss, especially as the man turned her.

The move clearly aimed to coax her memory.

Before she could answer.

The man spoke warmly, "Shall I help you recall how you slept me here last night?"

As soon as the words came out.

Claire’s mind buzzed as if something exploded, resonating.

She stared blankly at the mirror before her, incredulous, "Here?"

"Mm, right here."

Her face instantly turned crimson, unable to accept this fact, "Are you sure I seduced you, not you taking advantage?"

"Of course."

"Are you sure?" Confirming once more, still in disbelief.

The man’s tone remained steady, "When have I ever lied to you."

Her gaze quivered, feeling herself drown in this scene, unwilling to believe she was so uninhibited after drinking.

A long moment passed.

She strove to regain some sanity, shifting all responsibility to him, "Knowing I’m drunk, you let me act on impulse, you know I don’t like it here. So bad of you."

"Stopped you. It wasn’t impulsive; it was mutual consent. Besides, I really liked you last night, so alluring..."

Before he could finish, Claire quickly turned around, covering his mouth, not wanting to hear any description, "Anyway, I don’t remember, let’s pretend it never happened, and don’t bring it up again."

Keane’s gaze deeply fixed on her.

Knowing she couldn’t accept it just yet.

But he couldn’t be the only one holding last night’s memory. Clearly, they were both happy, in sync, her most authentic self, every moment he treasured.

He spoke sincerely, "Is there any version of you I don’t love?"

Claire’s gaze lowered, her heartbeat gradually calming, slowly accepting the reality.

But she still protested, "Who dares watch themselves in the mirror during such a moment."

"If I wasn’t drunk last night, I’d never have done that with you."