Your Regrets Won't Bring Me Back - Chapter 68: Chapter 68
You are reading Your Regrets Won't Bring Me Back, Chapter 68: Chapter 68. Read more chapters of Your Regrets Won't Bring Me Back.
Simon found Elena on the outer balcony.
Her head swam. She looked at him and blurted, "Young Master Simon, why won't your ghost leave me alone?"
Simon's lips quirked. "Yes, I'm haunting you. Drunk already?"
Elena blinked and shoved him without mercy. "Back off. I don't want any entanglement with the Whitmore family."
The smile at his mouth deepened; in her muddled state she looked a little like the girl she used to be.
He caught her hand. "Let me take you upstairs for some rest," he said.
Without waiting for consent, he swept her into his arms, carried her upstairs to the opposite wing, and entered his own room.
Simon laid her on the bed and lightly patted her cheek. "Elena?"
Elena's eyes fluttered open; the man in front of her split into a dozen shimmering images.
She reached for him and grasped only air.
Simon chuckled, caught her wandering hand, and pressed it against his face.
The moment her fingers touched his skin, something inside her stirred, as if trying to burst free.
She leaned into him greedily.
Even one sip had been enough—the drug was kicking in.
Simon pulled out his phone and dialed.
"You just developed an antidote to that aphrodisiac, right? Send some to me at Cloudsea Resort," he ordered.
"You got dosed?" the voice on the other end asked.
"Not me," Simon replied.
The woman behind him suddenly plastered herself against his back, hot breath caressing his collarbone, her hands roaming wildly while muffled moans spilled from her lips.
"Mmm... so hot... so thirsty..." she murmured.
"A woman? Come on, Simon—meat on the plate and you're not eating? Next time we drink I'm strapping you down with ten belts," the friend joked.
Simon seized the restless hand, his Adam's apple bobbing. "Save the jokes. Just bring it—now," he growled into the phone.
"The drug's not on the market yet. What if it harms her? Why not be the antidote yourself?" the friend teased.
Elena was slipping beyond reason. She clung to him, cupped his face, and hunted feverishly for his lips.
Simon Whitmore clenched his jaw. "Ten minutes—I expect that antidote in my hand."
He ended the call without another word.
Elena Bennett's breath scorched his skin. He caught her small hand, swung around, and pinned her hard against the mattress.
Simon demanded, "Elena Bennett, look at me—who am I?"
She forced her eyes open, brows knitted in pain; the drug blurred everything. Ruled by that potion, she hooked an arm around his neck and instinctively offered up her lips.
This time she located his mouth without a hitch.
Yet all she could do was nibble blindly at his lips.
Simon's dark eyes grew murky; only heaven knew how much strength it took not to have her then and there.
Her inexperienced kisses made his heart itch unbearably. Control snapped—he seized the initiative and crushed his mouth against hers.
His kiss came in raging waves—possessive to the bone yet laced with tenderness—like another fierce drug poured straight into her heart, leaving her completely dazed.
Realizing any more and even he would lose control, Simon forced himself to break away.
He hovered above her, gaze deep and heavy, a beast on the verge of eruption.
Elena tugged him closer. "Take me... will you?"
Her head swam. She looked at him and blurted, "Young Master Simon, why won't your ghost leave me alone?"
Simon's lips quirked. "Yes, I'm haunting you. Drunk already?"
Elena blinked and shoved him without mercy. "Back off. I don't want any entanglement with the Whitmore family."
The smile at his mouth deepened; in her muddled state she looked a little like the girl she used to be.
He caught her hand. "Let me take you upstairs for some rest," he said.
Without waiting for consent, he swept her into his arms, carried her upstairs to the opposite wing, and entered his own room.
Simon laid her on the bed and lightly patted her cheek. "Elena?"
Elena's eyes fluttered open; the man in front of her split into a dozen shimmering images.
She reached for him and grasped only air.
Simon chuckled, caught her wandering hand, and pressed it against his face.
The moment her fingers touched his skin, something inside her stirred, as if trying to burst free.
She leaned into him greedily.
Even one sip had been enough—the drug was kicking in.
Simon pulled out his phone and dialed.
"You just developed an antidote to that aphrodisiac, right? Send some to me at Cloudsea Resort," he ordered.
"You got dosed?" the voice on the other end asked.
"Not me," Simon replied.
The woman behind him suddenly plastered herself against his back, hot breath caressing his collarbone, her hands roaming wildly while muffled moans spilled from her lips.
"Mmm... so hot... so thirsty..." she murmured.
"A woman? Come on, Simon—meat on the plate and you're not eating? Next time we drink I'm strapping you down with ten belts," the friend joked.
Simon seized the restless hand, his Adam's apple bobbing. "Save the jokes. Just bring it—now," he growled into the phone.
"The drug's not on the market yet. What if it harms her? Why not be the antidote yourself?" the friend teased.
Elena was slipping beyond reason. She clung to him, cupped his face, and hunted feverishly for his lips.
Simon Whitmore clenched his jaw. "Ten minutes—I expect that antidote in my hand."
He ended the call without another word.
Elena Bennett's breath scorched his skin. He caught her small hand, swung around, and pinned her hard against the mattress.
Simon demanded, "Elena Bennett, look at me—who am I?"
She forced her eyes open, brows knitted in pain; the drug blurred everything. Ruled by that potion, she hooked an arm around his neck and instinctively offered up her lips.
This time she located his mouth without a hitch.
Yet all she could do was nibble blindly at his lips.
Simon's dark eyes grew murky; only heaven knew how much strength it took not to have her then and there.
Her inexperienced kisses made his heart itch unbearably. Control snapped—he seized the initiative and crushed his mouth against hers.
His kiss came in raging waves—possessive to the bone yet laced with tenderness—like another fierce drug poured straight into her heart, leaving her completely dazed.
Realizing any more and even he would lose control, Simon forced himself to break away.
He hovered above her, gaze deep and heavy, a beast on the verge of eruption.
Elena tugged him closer. "Take me... will you?"
End of Your Regrets Won't Bring Me Back Chapter 68. Continue reading Chapter 69 or return to Your Regrets Won't Bring Me Back book page.