Falling into Her Trap: Don't Cross the Line, Mr. President-Chapter 53: His Little Girl Has Gone Bad

Ethan Blackwood’s entire body was tense, and there was unmistakable desire in his half-closed eyes.

His little girl had learned to be naughty.

Just as Claire Shaw’s fingers landed on his belt, a familiar male voice sounded beside her ear, "Uncle."

Claire, already emotional, trembled violently at the sound.

It’s Owen Crawford!

Why is he here? Claire’s heart tightened.

She didn’t want anyone to know about her relationship with Ethan Blackwood, especially Owen Crawford.

The last time he came to her house, the lighting was dim, Ethan deliberately kept his head down, and Owen didn’t recognize him.

From the sound, Owen was still some distance away, after all, this was Ethan Blackwood’s private residence, outsiders were prohibited from parking, so Owen had walked over.

Ethan Blackwood stared at the woman beneath him; she resembled a startled little doe, her fair cheeks tinged with a charming blush, her eyes shimmering with tension and confusion.

Ethan raised an eyebrow, curiously and gently caressing Claire’s smooth and delicate face. He leaned down, whispering in her ear, "What? Afraid your ex will see you being intimate with me?"

"No, I...mm..."

Claire’s eyes widened; not only did Ethan not stop, he even supported her head, pulling her body closer with intimacy.

Owen stood behind the car, initially thinking Ethan was bending down to grab something from the vehicle, but as he got closer, he realized a woman was pressed underneath him.

Everyone knew Ethan Blackwood had no interest in women; he had never been seen with any for years.

Even the mother of his undisclosed twins remained unknown.

Suddenly witnessing such an alluring scene, Owen was somewhat surprised.

The man usually so composed and noble in public indulged so openly in private.

Owen couldn’t see the woman’s face, only the slender arms wrapped around the man’s neck.

Two legs extended from the slit of her cheongsam at the man’s waist, the red-painted toes gently nudging him in unease.

As if trying to break free from his hold, it looked to outsiders like playing hard to get, making the scene irresistible and extremely ambiguous.

Owen’s first thought was how pale the woman was.

So pale and tender.

Even he, as an onlooker, swallowed unconsciously, his throat tightening.

He thought of Claire Shaw, whose figure was perfect, skin so white it didn’t seem human.

Yet she was cold in bed; for years, he had tried hard to get Claire in bed only to be rejected even when attempting to hold her hand.

As the atmosphere between the two grew hotter, Owen remembered his purpose and called from the car’s end again, "Uncle."

Claire heard the approaching voice and tensed entirely; she didn’t know since when Ethan became Owen’s uncle.

Her large, fox-like eyes full of accusation, she took advantage of Ethan’s release to bite his Adam’s apple discontentedly.

She was like a cat whimpering and sulking.

"What’s the matter?" Ethan rubbed Claire’s face, speaking lightly.

Yet, even when he spoke to others, just two words, Claire could feel the pressure he exerted.

"Uncle, I want to discuss the project acquisition with you." Owen’s voice lacked the ease, showing nervousness unlike his usual freedom with Claire.

Though Claire couldn’t see his expression, she imagined he’d be like a student in trouble in front of a strict principal.

"Alright."

Ethan replied casually, and then he lifted her body, Claire’s face changed drastically, wouldn’t she be exposed going out like this!

In her trepidation, Ethan pulled the sash from behind her head down; Claire’s shiny black hair cascaded instantly.

He tilted his head, whispering to the woman, "Hold on tight."

The voice was deep and seductive.

Suddenly Owen thought it sounded familiar, like the voice from that night in Claire’s room, the night man’s voice?

He looked at the woman in the man’s arms.

Her legs were wrapped around the man’s sturdy waist, and her arms were tightly holding onto his neck.

Her perfect figure outlined exquisitely by the high-end cheongsam, the slender waist more enticing than the legs.

Her slightly curly long hair concealed her entire face, resting sideways on the man’s body, Owen couldn’t see her face, only the bright red lips gently resting against Ethan Blackwood’s neck.

Appearing seductive and indulgent, though her figure might resemble Claire’s, she sure wasn’t that cold block of wood.

He remembered that the man had a long scar on his chest, making him appear fierce and wild, unlike the refined image of Ethan Blackwood.

The chance of these two meeting was as slim as the moon colliding with Earth.

This thought flashed through his mind and was immediately dismissed by Owen Crawford.

How could he know how nervous the little woman clinging to Ethan Blackwood at this moment was, with her arms wrapped around his neck and her palms sweaty.

Her small face was pressed tightly against his skin, terrified of being discovered, not daring to reveal a thing.

Regret filled her heart; she shouldn’t have come down to meet him.

And the instigator of all this, holding her with one arm, casually lifted the plastic bag and cake.

When he got out of the car, he even lifted Claire Shaw up by the bottom, to secure her better on himself.

Little did he know that this lift nearly sent Claire Shaw’s heart leaping up to her throat.

It took all her willpower not to cry out, and in frustration, she bit down on Ethan Blackwood’s neck.

This black-hearted, scheming devil! He must have done it on purpose!

Owen Crawford noticed something was amiss and asked, "And who might this lady be..."

Claire Shaw, still biting Ethan Blackwood’s neck, froze for a moment, wondering how Ethan would introduce her.

As his girlfriend? Or as a secret lover, a plaything not meant for public eyes.

Perhaps he would simply smile suggestively, for among wealthy young heirs, playing with women was an unspoken understanding.

Ethan Blackwood kicked the car door shut, cradling Claire Shaw in one arm while carrying the items with the other, exuding masculinity and speaking with calm assurance: "Your little aunt."

At his words, Claire Shaw bit down even harder on his neck.

Without uttering a sound, he strode forward, leaving a bewildered Owen Crawford.

Is Ethan Blackwood getting married? Why hadn’t he heard?

By the time he caught up, Ethan Blackwood had already entered the elevator with Claire Shaw, guided by a servant to wait on the second floor.

He noticed the elevator stopped at the fifth floor, a place even he couldn’t access.

Moreover, if he hadn’t seen wrongly, Ethan Blackwood’s plastic bag was filled with women’s products.

For someone of his status to personally buy sanitary products for a woman was unexpected.

He pondered who this woman who caught his attention might be.

Charming and alluring, which family’s daughter could she be?

While Owen Crawford was lost in thought, Ethan Blackwood came downstairs, with a visible red mark on his neck, slightly broken skin hinting at blood.

"Uncle," Owen Crawford, who had prepared tea, spoke up as he poured, "You can’t spoil women too much, or their claws might become too sharp to handle."

Ethan Blackwood sat down casually on the sofa, his air of authority inherent even in casual wear.

He played with the warm porcelain cup in his long fingers, as if it were Claire Shaw’s skin.

Warm, smooth.

A playful smile curled his thin lips, "If you don’t indulge your own woman, what, leave her for someone else to indulge?"

Half an hour later.

When Ethan Blackwood went upstairs, Claire Shaw was on the terrace, seemingly discussing a property inspection with an agent.

He waited for her to hang up before speaking calmly, "Did you have the cake?"

Claire Shaw turned around, smoothing away the loneliness on her face, her fair little face breaking into a pure smile, sweetly voicing that none of her previous sadness was present.

"No, I was waiting for you."

Ethan Blackwood walked over with large strides, meeting her charming smile, "There’s nothing you want to ask me?" 𝑓𝑟𝑒𝘦𝓌𝑒𝑏𝑛𝑜𝘷𝑒𝘭.𝒸𝘰𝑚

For instance, why does Owen Crawford call him uncle? What’s the purpose of his visit?

Claire Shaw’s smile widened, and in the warm halo of the wall lights, her face was vibrant, yet she exuded a gentle, watery aura, like peach blossoms just blooming on branches in March.

A hint of pink, delicate and pure, captivating as if to intoxicate one’s heart.

She looked at the blood mark on his neck from her bite, recalling her genuine anger at the time.

Her pale, slender fingers gently caressed over it, the neck faintly aching.

Compared to being pampered, this kind of pain to Ethan was as insignificant as an ant bite.

Even because Claire caused this pain, it excited him inexplicably.

She continued caressing him gently, smiling slightly, her words icy and penetrating: "No."

Ethan Blackwood held her delicate wrist, his face under the backlit shadow, making it seem even more cold and daunting.

She stood on tiptoe, her hands resting on his shoulders, her red lips whispering by his ear, "Ethan, we agreed not to interfere in each other’s private matters."

As her words fell, he pulled her waist firmly, her soft body colliding into his solid embrace.