Your Regrets Won't Bring Me Back - Chapter 69: Chapter 69
You are reading Your Regrets Won't Bring Me Back, Chapter 69: Chapter 69. Read more chapters of Your Regrets Won't Bring Me Back.
Simon's eyes jolted. "What did you just say?"
"Take me. It hurts so bad... please."
She couldn't wait; her small hands were already yanking at his shirt. Simon's throat bobbed hard. He caught her wrists. "Are you sure?"
"I'm sure."
He pressed, "No regrets?"
She shook her head. "No regrets."
Heat rolled off him; beads of sweat dotted his forehead. God knew how lethal her few simple words were to him.
Simon asked softly, "Then look carefully—who am I?"
Consumed by fire yet forced to answer again, tears of frustration welled in Elena's eyes. "Young Master Whitmore," she whimpered.
Simon chuckled, brushed her lips, and murmured, "Good girl—say my name."
"Sim...on Whitmore."
A thud echoed in his chest; he bent and captured her lips again.
Guided only by instinct, she clawed at her own clothes.
Simon gritted his teeth, then abruptly lifted a hand and struck the back of her shoulder with the edge of his palm.
Elena's brows knit; her eyelids fluttered closed, and she collapsed into unconsciousness.
Even though she'd begged, he couldn't take her under circumstances like these.
Just then, a knock sounded at the door.
Straightening his rumpled clothes, Simon rose to open it.
Assistant Brian Change stood outside, phone in one hand, a small box of pills in the other. "Mr. Whitmore, Dr. Shaw sent the medicine."
Simon nodded, accepted the box, and added, "Go find Annabelle Bennett. You know what to do, right?"
Brian nodded once. "Yes, Mr. Whitmore."
"Go," Simon said.
Returning to the bedside, he eased the pill past Elena's lips.
Within minutes, the fog in her eyes cleared.
She frowned, every joint aching as though her body had been dismantled.
Noticing Simon's disheveled shirt, her scattered memories snapped back into place.
She remembered someone drugging her, and then...
Simon asked quietly, "Awake?"
She jolted upright, glanced at her own clothes. "Did we...?"
Simon chuckled and checked his watch. "It's been all of fifteen minutes since I carried you in here. That fast, Elena? You wound me."
The boot camp's lessons on how to lure a man flashed through her mind; heat rushed to her cheeks.
"Relax," he said. "I don't take advantage of people. Although, for the record, you were a lot cuter when you were begging me just now."
Elena sucked in a sharp breath.
She steadied herself and said earnestly, "Thank you."
Simon's gaze sharpened. "Do you know who slipped you the drug?"
She did. Curling her fingers into tight fists, Elena declared, "Since they want to make my life hell, I'll gladly return the favor!"
Elena looked up at him and asked softly, "Young Master Simon, could you do me a favor?"
"What kind of revenge do you have in mind?" Simon replied.
Elena pressed her lips together; her voice was icy enough to cut stone. "Annabelle wants to drug me and ruin my reputation, doesn't she? Then I'll give her a taste of her own medicine."
Simon's mouth tilted into a sly smile. "Seems we're thinking along exactly the same lines—great minds really do think alike."
Elena blinked at him in surprise. "What do you mean?"
"Remember I said I'd show you a spectacular scene? The curtain's about to rise. Come with me," Simon said.
Elena glanced down at her clothes, a little embarrassed. "I need to run to the restroom first."
Simon led her to the fourth floor. From the corridor railing they could survey the entire banquet below in a single sweep.
Almost at once Elena spotted Adaline weaving anxiously through the crowd.
Adaline hurried up to Sir Whitmore. "Sir Whitmore, my daughter is missing!" she cried.
"Take me. It hurts so bad... please."
She couldn't wait; her small hands were already yanking at his shirt. Simon's throat bobbed hard. He caught her wrists. "Are you sure?"
"I'm sure."
He pressed, "No regrets?"
She shook her head. "No regrets."
Heat rolled off him; beads of sweat dotted his forehead. God knew how lethal her few simple words were to him.
Simon asked softly, "Then look carefully—who am I?"
Consumed by fire yet forced to answer again, tears of frustration welled in Elena's eyes. "Young Master Whitmore," she whimpered.
Simon chuckled, brushed her lips, and murmured, "Good girl—say my name."
"Sim...on Whitmore."
A thud echoed in his chest; he bent and captured her lips again.
Guided only by instinct, she clawed at her own clothes.
Simon gritted his teeth, then abruptly lifted a hand and struck the back of her shoulder with the edge of his palm.
Elena's brows knit; her eyelids fluttered closed, and she collapsed into unconsciousness.
Even though she'd begged, he couldn't take her under circumstances like these.
Just then, a knock sounded at the door.
Straightening his rumpled clothes, Simon rose to open it.
Assistant Brian Change stood outside, phone in one hand, a small box of pills in the other. "Mr. Whitmore, Dr. Shaw sent the medicine."
Simon nodded, accepted the box, and added, "Go find Annabelle Bennett. You know what to do, right?"
Brian nodded once. "Yes, Mr. Whitmore."
"Go," Simon said.
Returning to the bedside, he eased the pill past Elena's lips.
Within minutes, the fog in her eyes cleared.
She frowned, every joint aching as though her body had been dismantled.
Noticing Simon's disheveled shirt, her scattered memories snapped back into place.
She remembered someone drugging her, and then...
Simon asked quietly, "Awake?"
She jolted upright, glanced at her own clothes. "Did we...?"
Simon chuckled and checked his watch. "It's been all of fifteen minutes since I carried you in here. That fast, Elena? You wound me."
The boot camp's lessons on how to lure a man flashed through her mind; heat rushed to her cheeks.
"Relax," he said. "I don't take advantage of people. Although, for the record, you were a lot cuter when you were begging me just now."
Elena sucked in a sharp breath.
She steadied herself and said earnestly, "Thank you."
Simon's gaze sharpened. "Do you know who slipped you the drug?"
She did. Curling her fingers into tight fists, Elena declared, "Since they want to make my life hell, I'll gladly return the favor!"
Elena looked up at him and asked softly, "Young Master Simon, could you do me a favor?"
"What kind of revenge do you have in mind?" Simon replied.
Elena pressed her lips together; her voice was icy enough to cut stone. "Annabelle wants to drug me and ruin my reputation, doesn't she? Then I'll give her a taste of her own medicine."
Simon's mouth tilted into a sly smile. "Seems we're thinking along exactly the same lines—great minds really do think alike."
Elena blinked at him in surprise. "What do you mean?"
"Remember I said I'd show you a spectacular scene? The curtain's about to rise. Come with me," Simon said.
Elena glanced down at her clothes, a little embarrassed. "I need to run to the restroom first."
Simon led her to the fourth floor. From the corridor railing they could survey the entire banquet below in a single sweep.
Almost at once Elena spotted Adaline weaving anxiously through the crowd.
Adaline hurried up to Sir Whitmore. "Sir Whitmore, my daughter is missing!" she cried.
End of Your Regrets Won't Bring Me Back Chapter 69. Continue reading Chapter 70 or return to Your Regrets Won't Bring Me Back book page.