Chapter 656:
Outside, Brock’s sharp ears caught the unusual noises. A grin spread across his face. At last, progress. Relief warmed him, along with admiration—injured as Brad was, he still found such strength. Brock doubted he could ever manage the same.
No one knew how long the kiss lasted, but by the time they pulled apart, they were both gasping for air. Brad finally let her lips go, yet kept his forehead pressed to hers, their noses brushing, breaths tangled in the heavy silence.
Rylie’s long hair tangled in his fingertips. Her lips, once pale, now red and swollen from the kiss, parted slightly as she subconsciously sought oxygen. She leaned weakly against him.
As if all strength had been drained from her, she relied solely on his arms around her waist and neck for support.
Brad’s chest surged with almost frantic excitement. Yet even through the haze, reason whispered — enough. He couldn’t demand more from her.
His voice came low and hoarse, threaded with heat that brushed her ears. “Now you finally know what I truly want.”
Rylie met his eyes, their fire mirrored in her dazed gaze.
She drew in a shallow breath, her voice soft as a whisper. “Was that your first…?”
Brad leaned back slightly, his lips curving faintly. “The second.”
Rylie’s gaze flickered. The answer didn’t surprise her. After all, he was thirty. Surely he had been with someone before.
But Brad caught the subtle shift in her expression. Holding her close, he murmured, gentle and coaxing, “The first was at the hospital. I stole it from you.”
Rylie blinked, startled, unable to remember.
He brushed a stray strand of hair from her lips, his fingertips tracing her damp mouth. His gaze deepened. “After you stood against danger for your students and fought those two bears, I chose to leave so I wouldn’t burden you. That was when I kissed you goodbye.”
gⱯlnσν𝒆𝓁s․com, the heart of storytelling
Rylie remembered she had been under anesthesia then, her mind foggy and half-lost.
“So… you took advantage of me,” she said faintly.
Brad couldn’t help but chuckle, a rare smile tugging at his lips.
Brad gave a faint smile. “That was the only time I kissed you. At that time, I thought I’d never get the chance to be close to you again, so I made that bold move.”
His gaze dropped to his bandaged leg. “Looking at it now… this injury was worth it.”
Rylie didn’t linger in the tent. Outside, Brock cleared his throat loudly, his voice carrying a pointed reminder. “Admiral Morgan, Mr. Deandre Owen is on his way!”
The warmth inside the tent faded in an instant.
Despite his injury, Brad’s strong arms lifted Rylie gently, placing her back into her wheelchair. By the time Deandre stepped inside, both of them looked calm and proper.
Deandre’s eyes shifted between them, suspicious, before he said, “Grandpa said he would take you back home now. Time to leave here.”
Rylie turned to Brad. “Take me back? And what about you?”
“I’ll return later. You go first,” he replied.
On the way back to their tent, he suddenly asked, “Do you have affection for him?”
.
.
.