Falling into Her Trap: Don't Cross the Line, Mr. President-Chapter 29: Ms. Shaw, Where Do You Want to Go?
In the car, there were only two people. The streetlights in the open parking lot spilled their yellow glow through the car window onto Claire Shaw.
The young girl’s cheeks were flushed, and the redness spread all the way to the back of her ears.
In the cramped space, the intense rose fragrance on her seemed like a feather, gently teasing him.
Claire Shaw parted her red lips and bit down on his fingertip.
Painless and without irritation, yet it was like a candle flame tipping over in an oil drum, instantly elevating the ambiguous atmosphere to the extreme.
With such a beautiful face, she spoke so directly and acted so seductively.
Ethan Blackwood’s dark eyes deepened, and the hand gripping her chin tightened further, "Who taught you this?"
Claire Shaw pushed him away, taking the initiative to straddle the man’s firm legs. She reached up to touch the man’s cheek, breathing softly near his ear, "Actually, I know a lot more. Do you want to try them all, Mr. Blackwood?"
The blouse had somehow loosened two buttons, hanging loosely on her left arm, revealing her smooth, white shoulder.
A thin pearl necklace rested on her collarbone, exuding a faint, mysterious glow.
Like a beautiful mermaid of the deep sea, enticing travelers to explore with her song.
"Is that so..."
The man suddenly pressed Claire Shaw beneath him, her expression barely changed.
Though she had intended to entice, she didn’t plan on doing so in a busy parking lot. Her actions were just meant to temporarily calm Ethan Blackwood.
She heard the sound of suitcases rolling on the pavement, accompanied by the voices of tourists.
Claire Shaw instinctively grabbed his hand, "Mr. Blackwood, not here, I’m afraid."
He gave Claire a deep look, "As you wish,"
Then he released her and called the driver, who then dared to get into the car.
"Ms. Shaw, where to?"
Ethan Blackwood handed the decision back to her, which made her feel quite uneasy.
She reached out to tug at his shirt, her delicate hand gently shaking it, "I’ll listen to you."
Ethan Blackwood mentioned a location—it was her apartment.
Claire Shaw was actually quite resistant; in the past, her relationship with Ethan Blackwood was like fast food—who would bring fast food home?
Even when he suggested going to her place for the first time in the underground parking, Claire had refused.
Things were different now; though she didn’t want to, she had no choice but to agree for the orphanage.
Strangely, on the way back, the man didn’t behave excessively toward her. He lowered the armrest, marking a boundary between them.
His gesture was lazy and leisurely, and his usually firm brows concealed a trace of fatigue.
Ethan Blackwood didn’t look at her, he closed his eyes serenely, relaxed against the seat, leaving her with only the cold outline of his profile.
The car stopped at the garage, Claire Shaw looked at him uneasily.
The man deftly walked to the elevator and pressed the button, Claire followed behind, fearing acquaintances might see them, she kept her distance from the man.
Ethan Blackwood didn’t expose her little thoughts, and they arrived at her small apartment.
Unlike last time when he came uninvited, this time Claire Shaw didn’t have the option to refuse.
She leaned on the shoe cabinet, bent over to take off her high heels.
The thin blouse revealed her lower back and her skirt-covered hips, the satin hem shimmered flamboyantly, looking particularly sexy and alluring.
Ethan Blackwood’s gaze deepened as he moved his sight away from her lower back.
Claire Shaw apologized, "I rarely have guests, so I haven’t prepared shoes. You can just come in directly."
The man glanced around; there were no men’s slippers on the shoe rack, indicating even Owen Crawford didn’t have such privilege.
His mood improved slightly as he took off his leather shoes, stepping his black socks onto Claire Shaw’s spotless wooden floor.
The small living room contained only a single armchair covered with a white sofa cover. On the coffee table lay several picture books where the petite woman usually curled up to look at them.
Claire Shaw sized him up, seemingly the man’s interest in her apartment was greater than hers.
This was quite awkward; it used to be him taking the initiative nearly all the time.
Or their gazes would meet, passion then erupting uncontrollably.
This sort of interaction was rather rare; without that layer of relationship, Claire Shaw felt at a loss.
"Do you want something to drink?"
The man leaned against the sofa, as if it were his own home comfort. He loosened his tie, casually unbuttoning a few buttons.
Revealing his fluctuating bronze-toned skin, showcasing a strong masculine charm.
His deep-set eyes scanned over her body, a single glance was enough for Claire Shaw to understand.
Claire Shaw stood before him, her slender fingertips landed on the first button, her voice was so charming, "Mr. Blackwood, shall we start now?"
