Falling into Her Trap: Don't Cross the Line, Mr. President-Chapter 34: The Pale Morning Light
Claire Shaw was astonished, not expecting to hear such words from the man’s mouth.
In her mind, power elites have always been symbols of power, using their privileged social status to easily break rules and achieve their goals.
Before coming here, Claire even thought he might take advantage of the situation to make a series of unequal demands.
The most common plot in domineering CEO novels is for the CEO to set a trap for the female lead, forcing her to appeal to him.
It’s not that the text is too exaggerated; the ugliness of human nature in reality is far more terrifying than imagined.
Ethan Blackwood’s voice was calm: "Ms. Shaw, I want us to interact as equals, rather than using the body to gain benefits."
His palm was gently pressed against her cheek, "Good girl, that would be too unfair to you."
His voice was so soft, yet it was like a heavy punch that shattered the defenses in her heart.
"So, please don’t reject my approach anymore, alright?"
Claire Shaw’s eyes carried disbelief as she scrutinized his deep-set eyes, the dangerous and indifferent contours of his face appearing more gentle in the warm light.
Claire’s feelings were complicated; the man seemed wrapped in a dense fog, making it hard for her to see through him.
He neither agreed nor refused, yet said these words. Does he want her to express more? Is this just a bargaining chip for negotiations?
After all, he is a businessman. 𝚏𝕣𝐞𝗲𝐰𝕖𝐛𝐧𝕠𝕧𝚎𝚕.𝐜𝚘𝗺
"When can you give me a definitive answer?" Claire asked, tugging at his sleeve, somewhat bewildered.
"Wait a little longer."
He raised his hand to ruffle her hair, "It’s late, get some rest."
He stood up and turned off the light, and the room was instantly plunged into darkness.
He pulled her into his embrace, their bodies tightly pressed together.
In the darkness, his heartbeat was steady and strong, unlike hers, which was chaotic.
Ethan Blackwood’s hand rested on her waist, his palm warm.
This was the only meeting since they had met without any intimate activity.
Feeling his exhaustion, Claire swallowed back the words she was about to say.
She lightly shifted her body, putting some distance between them, lying on the edge of the bed with her back to him.
The man looked at her silhouette with steady eyes, his dark pupils reflecting an abyssal depth.
With no entanglement of interests, she wished to be as far away from him as possible.
Ethan Blackwood raised his hand, skillfully pulling her back into his embrace.
Claire’s back pressed against his bare chest, surrounded by the warmth of his body, she felt all her pores contract in tension.
She curled up, motionless, unsure of how to react, wanting to leave but fearing to anger him.
Never had they shared a bed like this before, like a newlywed couple, sweet and tender.
Ethan rested his chin in the crook of her neck, his hot breath sprinkling onto her skin.
His tone was thick with fatigue: "Ms. Shaw, I’m a bit tired today."
She did not push him away and muttered, "Good night, Mr. Blackwood."
His hand resting on her abdomen gently pinched her belly, "Don’t call me that, even just my name is better than this title."
He didn’t like her using such a formal address, it only pushed him further away.
His tone wasn’t commanding, but rather like a big dog pouting.
Claire hummed in response.
The man behind her ceased to move, and soon his even breathing filled the space.
This left Claire in a bind, as even Miranda Shaw had never shared a bed with her, accustomed to being alone she found the presence of another unsettling.
With no air conditioning at home, his body heat made her break into a sweat while he held her.
Claire dared not push him away, obediently nestling in his embrace, with only the occasional breeze through a small window offering a hint of coolness.
It took her a long time to fall asleep, unsure of when it finally happened.
In the early morning, as the sun shone upon her, she furrowed her brow and opened her eyes.
The sticky feeling of sweat reminded her of Ethan Blackwood spending the night at her place.
Opening her eyes, there was no sign of him beside her.
She had moved from the edge of the bed to a third of the way in at some point.
Looking at the narrow space behind, if she had been pressed against him last night, it meant Ethan only slept on less than fifty centimeters of bed.
With his build, didn’t he spend the whole night hanging off the side?
Seeing no trace of him, Claire stood barefoot on the floor.
As she reached the living room, the sounds from the kitchen caught her attention, and she was dumbfounded to see the person standing there.
In the warm morning sunlight, the tall man was dressed the same as last night.
Bare-chested, wearing loose black sweatpants below.
The only difference today was an apron across his chest,
A beige tie wrapped around his strong waist, his robust latissimus dorsi accentuating his muscular curve as he moved the spatula.
His skin was not pale at all, a healthy bronze tone.
Claire was familiar with his abs, but this angle was a first.
The man’s back was just as striking as the front, every muscle distinctly bounded, strong yet not exaggeratedly so.
Two sexy waistlines disappeared into the black waistband, and she knew well the strength of those long legs beneath the wide pant legs.
Ethan Blackwood’s back bore two scars, adding a wild and untamable allure, complemented by the apron, the scene’s erotic tension rivaling that of a man seeing a woman in lingerie.
In this state, he struck Claire with more force than when dressed in a suit.
Claire’s body temperature rose sharply, her face flushed hotly, her throat tightened.
Suddenly parched, she recalled bringing him home for a deal, yet had indeed been thoroughly teased by him.
Ethan previously mentioned examples of fleeting novelty, but Claire didn’t expect it to come so soon.
Just seeing the man bare-chested with an apron sparked her imagination.
An endless desire arose in her heart...
