Chapter 194 Did You Come Today Just to Tell Me to Keep My Distance?
He kissed her hard.
Harper's lips were locked, and she was wrapped in Francis's fresh scent.
Francis gripped her wrist tight, not letting go.
Harper didn't dare push him away, feeling anxious.
Her heart pounded as she endured his intense kiss.
One thought filled her mind.
’Francis is crazy.‘
Gradually, a metallic taste broke through his scent, invading her breath.
It was blood.
Harper was on the verge of panic. Her mind was a blur, not knowing what to do.
Francis's tongue pressed against hers, each move like he was trying to absorb her.
Harper's eyes met his deep, starry ones; they both had their eyes open. She wanted to escape, but he wanted to keep her.
Finally, his grip slackened for a second, and Harper bit down on his lower lip without hesitation.
Francis winced in pain and let her go.
His gaze remained fierce, like a wolf's, with a dominating possession.
Harper didn't bother to glare at him; she immediately pressed the call button.
While waiting for the doctor, she squatted down to check Francis's wound. One look and she was trembling with anger.
His blood was seeping out faster than before.
Her eyes reddened, and she growled, "Francis! Are you out of your mind?"
Francis lay back, ignoring the mess on his chest. His face remained handsome and charming, showing no signs of distress, and even his lips had turned rosy.
He smirked and said in a hoarse voice, "Yes, I'm out of my mind."
Harper's face changed slightly; that wasn't what she meant. She was just angry that he didn't take his health seriously.
But clearly, her concern was unnecessary.
Francis raised an eyebrow and chuckled softly, "You're my medicine."
Harper was really infuriated by him.
At a time like this, he was still joking.
If his wound didn't heal, he deserved it!
Francis looked at her worried expression, his eyes gradually filling with amusement.
It was only at times like this that he felt she still belonged to him.
"Really, you can cure me just by staying with me."
His words were like honey, making her heart flutter.
Harper's heart skipped a few beats.
The doctor soon came in and gasped at Francis's condition.
While the doctor was helping with his wound, Francis remained silent, only frowning when he couldn't bear the pain.
The doctor felt a bit helpless and said, "Sir, don't think you can be reckless just because you're young. This wound has already split open twice today. If it happens again, you'll have to go back to the ICU for isolation."
The doctor meant well, and Francis knew he was in the wrong, so he kept quiet.
Harper, on the other hand, was terrified.
Twice.
What was he trying to do? Did he really not care about his life?
After scolding Francis, the doctor turned to Harper.
"I know you young people have strong desires, but you have to control yourselves. Your boyfriend's chest keeps splitting open; this is no joke."
"I..." Harper's face turned as red as a tomato. She was about to explain when Francis interrupted.
"Doctor, it's not her fault. I wasn't careful."
The doctor laughed and teased, "You seemed mute when you were in pain, but the time I mention your girlfriend, you know how to speak."
Harper's face turned even redder.
No wonder the doctor misunderstood; there were still bite marks on Francis's lips, indicating how intense the earlier activity had been.
The doctor glanced at the oatmeal on the bedside table and piped out, "Oatmeal is nutritious. This porridge was made with care; you can have some."
With that, the doctor left the room.
Harper stood by the bed, still angry about what had just happened, looking down at her phone without speaking.
Molly had sent a voice message, and Harper listened to it with her phone to her ear, and then typed a reply.
Francis, with his keen hearing, noticed it was a female voice, which improved his mood.
He coughed lightly, pulling at his wound and gasping in pain.
Harper quickly put down her phone, thinking he needed help. "What do you need? I'll get it for you," she asked urgently.
Francis's lips curled into a smile. "I'm hungry."
"What do you want to eat? I'll ask Victor to get it."
Francis turned his head and lifted his chin. "There's food right here."
He was referring to the oatmeal.
Harper turned to look, wondering why he wanted to eat it now after he had refused it earlier. But she didn't ask, preparing to take the cold oatmeal in the bowl to the kitchen in the ward to throw it away and get clean utensils.
However, Francis stopped her hand. "This oatmeal is still edible."
"It's already cold," Harper said.
His body couldn't handle cold food, and cold oatmeal didn't taste good either. She gently pushed his hands away; though it wasn't obvious, Francis could still feel her resistance to being close to him.
"I made a lot. You can have some warm porridge." she said.
But she didn't understand why Francis was insisting on it; he just wouldn't let her throw it away.
"Leave it, I'll have it all."
With that, he took it and started eating. But with his chest wound, eating by himself meant unavoidable movements that pulled at the wound. When it hurt, he didn't make a sound but frowned with a pained expression.
Harper couldn't stand it anymore. She grabbed the bowl and put the table away so he could lie down. Then she started feeding him. Francis was more agreeable than before, even somewhat obedient.
This word didn't quite fit someone as imposing as him. But Harper really felt he was trying to please her.
He finished a bowl of oatmeal.
"Do you want more?" she asked succinctly.
Francis's deep eyes glanced at her swollen red lips and said hoarsely, "Yes, I want more."
Then he looked at her with that predatory gaze, burning into her.
Harper's face couldn't help but heat up, her ears turning red from his gaze. "I meant, do you want more oatmeal."
Francis's eyes were deep, his lips curved slightly. "That's what I meant too."
Harper didn't believe him.
Francis had another bowl until the thermos was empty. He actually finished it all.
Harper was a bit surprised; had he had nothing all day?
Francis looked at her and said with a smile, "It was delicious."
She had put effort into making it for him, and he didn't want to waste any of it.
After he finished, it was already very late. Harper's actions of cleaning the thermos made his face darken. "Are you leaving?"
Harper nodded. "It's late."
"Don't..." Francis grabbed her, not knowing how to make her stay, blurting out, "Who's going to take care of me if you leave? I got hurt for you."
Again, Abigail had said the same thing when she asked her to come today. Harper's bright eyes dimmed.
He had already been engaged to another woman; what did it mean for her to stay and take care of him all night? Especially since Ryan had called her Francis's mistress, those words still echoed in her ears. What he said felt like long iron nails, deeply nailing her to a pillar of shame.
She had principles and would never allow herself to interfere in someone else's relationship. Harper's hand at her side clenched into a fist, trying hard not to lose control.
No one thought about her or cared about her reputation. But she couldn't ignore it.
She took a deep breath. "How much does a hospital caregiver cost per hour? I can pay until you're discharged."
As soon as she said that, his eyes darkened. Francis stared at her, frowning. "Do you think I'm asking you for money?"
Harper knew he was angry, but some things needed to be made clear, and her stance wouldn't waver. "It's not right. It is good for both of us to keep a distance."
Francis's eyes were deep, and his anger was evident. "Did you come today just to tell me to keep my distance?" he asked, staring at her.
He wanted to hear her say no, to say she was worried about him, to explain why she hadn't come to see him until now...
Harper felt his intense gaze extremely oppressive. She admitted, "If you say so."
Suddenly, everything in the ward fell silent. After a long while, Francis let out a very light sneer. "Since you want to pay, why not include my life in the calculation? Let me see how much my wound costs. How about that?"
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