Chapter - 4 AssHolic Preys

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Raine Simmons - Blackwood

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Raine Simmons - Blackwood

"Fuck!!"

"What now?" he gritted in annoyance. He stopped in his tracks as I lightly squeezed his hand.

"My leg hurts."

His gaze visibly softened before it turned back to normal. However, his eyes gave away.

"Come with me." He said, placing his hand on my waist, leading me to the nearest room.

One hand was firmly placed on my waist, while the other one was under my strong grip. His fingertips burnt through my fabric and onto my skin, creating a sense of tingly feeling. I resisted my urge to shake his hand off of me.

No, Not because I didn't like it, but merely because of the fear. The fear of getting addicted to his manly touch.

His mere touch was enough to make me forget the rest of the world.

I shouldn't get addicted to him. I shouldn't get affected by him. It would only make things ten times worse and I didn't want that, and I couldn't help it either.

But deep down, Why is it that, I secretly crave for his touch?

What was I feeling for this man, whom I had never met before but knew him well enough?

Dad used to talk highly about him, during our secret meetings. It felt like I knew the person, personally as if he was a friend. The way dad's eyes brightened up when he spoke of his children is something I could never forget.

Amidst my thoughts, He took me to the nearest room and helped me sit on a couch. I was surprised as he sat on his knee, but not beside me. His hand reached my right leg.

At least this could buy me some time for my confirmation. Maybe I could get rid of this gut feeling, after that.

His eyes found mine for approval. I just nodded my head, letting him know that, it was indeed the right leg I had pain in.

He took off the heel and lifted it till it reached his thigh. I felt his light yet steady breath on my feet.

"Don't, your majesty." I reasoned, trying to pull my leg away from his grip.

He forked his fingers through his gorgeously silky, styled dark brown hair, making it messier. The loose strands fell onto his forehead as looked up at me once again.

"Darn it, Raine. Just, Stay put." He ordered.

He started massaging my foot. His thumb was moving in patterns soothing the slight pain I felt.

Why did he even care? His words told me something and his actions were the otherwise.

But His actions spoke louder than words.

He is hurt. He couldn't pretend to be alright if others weren't, even if they didn't mean anything to him.

Growing accustomed to this kind of thing will only make me fall into a rabbit hole, that's far too deep for me to climb up.

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