Falling into Her Trap: Don't Cross the Line, Mr. President-Chapter 33: In the Past, You Called Me Ethan Blackwood
Ethan Blackwood stepped forward, wedging one foot between her legs, gently guiding her body to lie back on the bed.
Her long hair softly scattered over the floral bedspread, the left strap loosely hung over her shoulder.
Her pink lips slightly parted, she looked both pure and alluring.
Ethan bent one leg and rested his elbow beside her cheek, enveloping Claire Shaw beneath him.
Even without a word, the air was already thick with an ambiguous atmosphere.
Seeing him unmoved, Claire gently hooked his leg, nudging against his thin casual pants, obediently like never before.
"Mr. Blackwood..." Her voice was soft, inexplicably invoking sympathy.
She had thought everything would fall into place once the man finished his shower, but Ethan made no further moves.
The bedside lamp was on in the room, the man against the light, his arm muscles clearly defined as he supported himself beside her face, his trapezius shimmering with a honeyed glow under the light.
His dark eyes held a unique depth, akin to an eagle soaring in a valley, patrolling his domain.
Such eyes made Claire uneasy.
No passion or desire, as if she was a prisoner being interrogated by him.
In contrast to her panic, he seemed overly calm, speaking slowly, "Before, you called me Ethan Blackwood."
During those three months when she didn’t know his identity, she hadn’t once proactively asked about it.
After learning of his identity, she often wore a cold face whenever she was with him, only calling him Mr. Blackwood in necessary situations, most times she used his full name.
She never regarded him as the heir to a financial empire or got involved with him much, solely to delineate boundaries.
Since she had made that call today, Claire had consistently referred to him as Mr. Blackwood, this time as a mark of respect.
Her every move never escaped his eyes, Claire had intended to discuss this matter after the man was finished.
After all, you can’t bite the hand that feeds you, nor disparage those who shelter you.
Ethan clearly hadn’t planned to give her this opportunity, patiently waiting for her to speak.
"Mr. Blackwood, actually I have a request."
The man rolled onto one side of the bed, his somber gaze checking her out.
The bed wasn’t large to begin with, and when he lay down entirely, he took up most of the space.
"Mm, that’s clear." His voice was light, "What do you need me to do?"
Claire turned around, her eyes carrying a hint of pleading as she spoke about the orphanage.
Finally, she drew closer to the man’s chest, "I went to see it, that piece of land is on the edge of your planned area, mostly it will become a greenbelt, changing the planning wouldn’t affect the main part much, but it’s the place those kids rely on to survive."
"So?"
Even though they were so close, his breath was steady and expression calm, but Claire couldn’t help but feel nervous.
It was like returning to school days and facing the physics teacher she dreaded the most.
He naturally exuded a sense of authority, a confidence that belonged to a person in power.
Claire’s hands around his waist trembled lightly, she bit her lip and spoke haltingly, "I want to make a deal with you."
Her eyes were full of entreaty, making her look pitiable yet utterly captivating.
The close-fitting slip dress outlined her perfect waist, its length barely reaching the thighs, her two white legs slightly curled.
The man’s fingertips lightly landed on her waist, fingers slowly moving downward, "With your body?"
"Yes." She suppressed the humiliation in her eyes, "I know I’ve been too cold towards you before, I hope you don’t mind."
Where his fingers went, she could sense her body trembling.
"What are you afraid of?"
"Afraid you think I’m not worth that piece of land."
Also afraid of becoming a toy in the man’s hands from now on, since the beginning of this negotiation she had exposed her cards, with no chance of winning, forced to accept all his conditions.
She could only gamble on his humanity not being too poor, not pushing her into an awkward predicament.
Long fingertips fell to her brow and eyes, the rough fingertip slowly tracing her features, "Ms. Shaw, why belittle yourself, your worth is far beyond a piece of land."
Instantly a hint of joy appeared in Claire’s eyes, she excitedly grabbed the man’s strong wrist, "Mr. Blackwood, as long as it’s within my acceptable range, you can set any terms."
Ethan feeling her delicate skin, asked placidly: "If there were no such land involved, would Ms. Shaw still be willing to be intimate with me?"
In his deeply experienced eyes, Claire knew inept lies wouldn’t fool him.
She confessed honestly: "No, but Mr. Blackwood, it’s not that I dislike you, just that our identities have shaped this, I hope you understand."
"I understand."
"Then about the deal..."
Ethan calmly said: "Let me think about it."
His eyes showed no emotion, making it impossible for anyone to guess his thoughts.
This answer surprised Claire, neither agreeing nor denying, her heart tangled in uncertainty.
"Mr. Blackwood, if it’s because I refused you before, I can apologize."
Claire raised her neck, her usually indifferent face flushed red with excitement as she cautiously controlled her emotions:
"If you have time, could you visit the orphanage with me? Those kids are really pitiful, abandoned by their parents at birth, finally finding a home, or you can set a price, how much for that land, I have some savings here, the rest I can write you an IOU, I..."
"Claire Shaw."
Ethan captured her slender wrist, his brows slightly furrowed, without questioning why she was so focused on an orphanage.
No mockery, but patiently explained: "I don’t know why you chose me that night, do you know why I chose you?"
No dominance, nor aggression, nor superiority.
He was like an elder, gently explaining to her.
"I don’t know."
"We were very compatible in bed, mostly because we were in a position of equality, you were soft but not weak, clingy yet independent, compared to your beautiful exterior, what attracts me more is you as a person, or rather, your noble soul."
As he spoke, his thumb gently rubbed her wrist, as if soothing, stroke by stroke.
"If I agree to your terms, henceforth you would be lower in status when facing me, just like today, from that phone call, our relationship started to be unequal."
"Ms. Shaw, you should have been like that celestial being high above when playing the violin, but how can an angel bow down?"
