Capturing the Young Doctor's Heart: Mr. Big Shot Won't Let Me Go-Chapter 57: Want to Touch?

However, as the door to the private room opened, Claire Prescott froze slightly.

It wasn’t their world for two.

Instead, it was a drinking party.

Inside, a table full of people dressed in suits sat; they were dressed impressively, with two foreign men among them, displaying slight surprise upon seeing Keane Lowell enter with her.

But they quickly reacted, standing up one by one and greeting him, "Mr. Lowell."

Despite their late arrival, none showed any impatience, nor did anyone dare mention words like "late."

In fact, they were worried he wouldn’t come, immediately making room for the two with exquisite politeness and refined manners.

Initially, Claire Prescott felt uncomfortable.

Not informed beforehand of others’ presence, not knowing who they were, she was unprepared, inevitably awkward.

In the past, being out and about, she was never associated with awkwardness, but now it’s different.

As for why...

Perhaps because now she’s by Keane Lowell’s side, every move magnified, she doesn’t want to embarrass him, nor hear anyone say she’s unworthy of standing beside him.

Besides, the people at this table emphasized propriety in conversation, reminiscent of Ethan Lancaster, with hidden meanings in their words.

Keane Lowell swapped the wine by her hand for juice and said, "You said you were hungry earlier; take it easy, don’t mind us, nobody will talk about you."

Claire Prescott nodded.

All eyes were on the two of them, curious about her identity, but with Keane Lowell’s words just now, no one dared bring it up, not wanting to appear improper before him.

But one of the Germans spoke up.

The speech was in German, which Claire Prescott didn’t understand, but upon hearing Keane Lowell converse in German with the man, she was somewhat astonished.

She didn’t expect him to speak German so fluently.

His voice seemed enveloped in a cold, rational allure, magnetic and sexy, and as the sound trailed off, Claire turned her head to meet his fond gaze.

Seeing his emotion, and the gaze from the two Germans.

Claire Prescott was certain they were talking about her.

Keane Lowell picked up chopsticks, serving food into her dish.

The table was filled with delicacies of national banquet level, each dish exceptionally exquisite; Claire Prescott sipped juice and continued eating quietly, not intending to disrupt their conversation.

Gradually, she adapted to the atmosphere here.

Words like "technology" or "electronic chips," along with various technical terms, she understood none.

Yet sitting by Keane Lowell, she often sensed a coldness emanating from him, only for it to be suppressed shortly after.

The way he suppressed it was by serving a dish to her plate.

...

After the gathering dispersed, Claire Prescott clung to his arm, following his pace and teasing, "You speak German quite nicely."

Keane Lowell looked down at her, "Do you speak German?"

"No, I can only tell it’s German, but I don’t understand what you were saying," Claire Prescott retorted, "Were you speaking ill of me just now?"

Keane Lowell smirked and asked, "What constitutes speaking ill to you?"

Claire Prescott pondered, ready to speak, suddenly realizing something, quickly shutting her mouth and looking at him, "You’re tricking me."

Keane Lowell chuckled without commenting.

At this moment, Assistant Cheney opened the rear car door for them.

The two got in, initially sitting properly, but as Claire Prescott reached for her seatbelt, her hand was suddenly grasped by him.

The man spoke in a deep tone, "Sit here with me."

Claire Prescott hesitated, saying, "It’s not safe, nor comfortable."

But next moment, she was pulled over by him.

The astonishing arm strength surprised her; the man’s face remained calm even in the dim light, showing no effort at all.

Soon, the partition silently rose, even the air from the AC cooled a little.

Claire Prescott felt helpless.

As the car smoothly hit the road, she surrendered, embracing his neck and leaning against him.

Body heat transferred between them, intertwining; the fresh woody scent mingled with a faint wine aroma lingered at her nose, recalling how he drank quite a bit at the table, but showed no signs of intoxication.

Clearly, he handled alcohol well.

Honestly, she liked sitting on him and craving his embrace but feared becoming utterly reliant on him.

Yet...

They’re doing just fine now, what pointless thoughts are these?

Her hand rested on the man’s solid arm, with muscles rising underneath, exuding strength, his embrace broad and warm, imparting a sense of security, perhaps explaining her affection for his hugs.

"President Lowell," she softly called, her voice tender and melodious.

Keane Lowell glanced down.

Seeing the delicate hand without bones caressing down along his clothing, daring not move as it landed on his chest, the girl seemed curious about his body, asking, "Do you often work out?"

Her almond-shaped eyes shone bright and clear amidst alternating light, seemingly unaware this gesture was provocative.

Keane Lowell’s gaze deepened slightly, watching her calmly, "Want to feel?"

His tone suddenly shifted, becoming distinctly suggestive.

Claire Prescott’s fingers curled slightly, moved away from his muscles obediently, yet before she withdrew, Keane Lowell’s firm grip placed her hand against him.

Claire Prescott struggled slightly, but the man didn’t allow it.

Guiding her from his chest down to his abdomen, stopping.

Her fingertips pressed against his slick garment, distinctly feeling the smooth lines and textures, his strong frame and pulsing energy making her heart race, even her breathing became irregular.

Soon after, his lips pressed closer.

Claire Prescott froze, softly capturing his lips.

With her initiative, the situation suddenly turned uncontrollable, clothes wrinkled and crumpled until her dizzy voice brought Keane Lowell to conclude the kiss.

Claire Prescott escaped his warm palm, gradually drying her lips from the moisture.

...

Bidding farewell at Sinclair Apothecary’s entrance, Claire Prescott lingered quietly behind a side door for a while.

Not daring to proceed until the lingering scent and warmth dissipated from her.

"Why are you sneaking around at the door?"

A voice suddenly emerged, nearly sending her soul off in fright; frightened and pale, she looked at the silhouette in the dimness, "Grandpa, why are you still not asleep?"

The old Chinese physician fanned himself under the tree to cool off, gazing at her with a depth, "What guilty deed have you done outside?"

"I haven’t," Claire Prescott dodged his gaze, "Grandpa, I’m a bit tired; I’m going to bed, you should rest early too."

She quickly pretended to be nonchalant and went upstairs.

Like being caught cheating, a bizarre sense of guilt arose.

Otherwise, not seen him for so long, she would chatter a bit with Grandpa in the past, but hurriedly rushed upstairs now, surely the old physician noticed something amiss about her.