Chapter 54 I'm Addicted to You
"I need you..." he said with desire.
That night, Harper deeply regretted giving in to him.
Doing nothing turned out to be more exhausting than doing something—indeed, a man's words can be as deceitful as a ghost's.
...
Due to the previous night's exertion, Harper slept in until ten o'clock. Even Victor coming in didn't wake her.
Victor had come to deliver clothes.
The moment he opened the door, he saw Harper sleeping soundly in Francis' arms, her hair slightly tousled, her shoulder bare—a picture of beauty and handsome allure.
'But hadn't Mr. Getty been injured?
'Their position made it hard to tell who was looking after whom.'
The next moment, a sharp gaze from Francis had Victor quickly lowering his head, carefully placing the clothes and breakfast on the dresser, and leaving after closing the door.
Despite Victor being quiet, Harper stirred.
In a half-asleep state, she nestled closer into the warmth of the pillow.
Her subconscious movement clearly pleased Francis. His lips curved into a smile as he pulled her in even closer.
When Harper awoke, she found herself lying on Francis’s thighs as he was busy handling matters on his tablet. Disoriented for a few seconds, she tried to shift away but was kept in place by his arm over her shoulder.
He closed the tablet with one hand, set it aside, and then leaned down to kiss the top of her head, asking, "Hungry?"
Harper felt a bit awkward with such intimacy. She shook her head, "I'm not hungry."
But Francis whispered in her ear, "I am."
She couldn't shake the feeling that Francis was implying something else entirely.
"I'll go get you something to eat."
In a fluster, she began to get up, only to realize she was wearing his shirt and her clothes were tossed on the floor.
Memories from last night flooded her mind, and her face turned scarlet.
Francis had a few things to take care of and couldn't stay to tease her. "I had Victor bring them over, along with some clothes."
Harper's cheeks flushed at his words, and she quickly went to get dressed.
After lunch, with her senses finally snapping back to the present, Harper belatedly asked, "Did you have Victor buy the clothes?"
'Even my underwear...’
'Wasn't that a bit too much?'
"I had Auntie pick them out. Victor just delivered them," Francis explained before adding, "Next time, I'll make the purchase myself. I have your measurements memorized."
Harper found herself at a loss for words. 'Was he so idle from sickness that his mind was swirling with nonsensical thoughts?' She stood to leave, but Francis caught her wrist with a firm tug, and before she knew it, she was nestled in his embrace.
"Are you full?" he asked, his voice a deep rumble.
He was so close that she felt even breathing a seemingly arduous task.
"I'm... full," she stuttered.
"I'm not yet," he murmured, his words laden with an intimate undertone.
Harper's ears turned crimson, avoiding the implications of his words by deflecting, "Then have some fruit."
"You feed me," Francis requested unabashedly.
"Can't you eat on your own?"
"I'm injured," he replied with a sense of entitlement.
She couldn't help but glance at his long, graceful fingers that had been so deft the night before... they had mercilessly pushed her to beg him, showing no signs of an injury at all.
Francis caught her gaze and shamelessly poked her with his finger. "I wore myself out last night. Now, feed me, and when you're ready, I can take you to the heavens again..."
Her cheeks were a fiery red. His audacity knew no bounds. How could he say such things so coolly?
"Stop it!" she blurted out, hastily picking a grape from the fruit bowl to mask her fluster.
His lips were already brushing against her ear, his whisper intimate, "You didn't tell me to stop last night..."
Harper's heartbeat was chaotic as she struggled to maintain control, reminding him, "Francis, we're about to separate—"
"Mm..."
His lips captured hers, pecking fervently.
"We're not separating," he declared.
Her eyes widened in disbelief, thinking she had misheard.
"What did you say?"
"I'm addicted to you."
The weight of his words was nearly overwhelming. Harper stood dumbfounded, unable to process it all.
He was saying they won't divorce, confessing his addiction to her.
Her heart skipped a beat before racing back to life. A shadow descended over her as the man's handsome face drew nearer. Without giving Harper a chance to respond, he kissed her fingertips, feeding her the grape.
Harper's heart raced wildly, the pounding throwing her into a frenzy of panic and vulnerability.
Francis gently enveloped her fingertip with his lips before sliding her hand away to meet her own in a tender kiss, his tongue playfully coiling around the grape, drawing out its sweet juice.
His eyes remained open. Lifting Harper's delicate chin with his fingers, he watched intently as he spun the grape in her mouth. A look of sheer desire painted his handsome features.
Harper felt electrified, a current zapping from head to toe, the intense sensation curling her toes in exquisite discomfort. She thought she might just die.
Only once the grape was thoroughly savored did he break the kiss, his face radiating satisfaction as he complimented, "So sweet."
Harper still floated on the cloud, her tongue numb, as if it no longer belonged to her. Her legs were jelly, barely able to support her. Her hands shook as she hastily picked up the lunch box from the table, murmuring, "I'll throw this away."
Francis frowned. "The caregiver can do that."
But Harper had already flung open the door. She couldn't stay a moment longer and craved a breath of fresh air.
After disposing of the trash, she lingered on the balcony, gathering her thoughts. 'Francis said he hadn't kissed any other women... He said he wouldn't divorce me... He had claimed to love Chloe deeply, so what was he planning to do with me?'
Chastising herself, Harper wondered if she hadn't learned her lesson yet. 'Men could easily disentangle physicality from emotion, whereas women often mistook intimacy as a sign of deepening affection... Maybe his addiction was just to my body,' she pondered.
Yet, deep down, a flicker of hope stirred. 'Could I, for the sake of their child, trust him one more time?'
Lost in her musings, Harper returned to the hospital room, only to be met with the sound of a woman's weeping. Her steps faltered.
Inside, Chloe was clinging to Francis, crying so pitifully. Francis, his features creased with concern, tenderly stroked her back, clearly moved by her sobs.
"Francis, does it hurt? I'm dying here, seeing you like this... I hate that I can't be rightfully by your side..." Chloe wept.
"Chloe, please don't. You have to stay calm," Francis soothed, pain in his voice, yet he couldn't bring himself to push her away, and they held each other close.
Harper felt a bitter taste in her throat, her emotions a tangled mess despite her clarity. Her doubts seemed almost comical now. As long as Chloe was there, an insurmountable wall would stand between them.
Just then, Victor approached, surprised to see Harper outside the door. Before he could speak, Harper dashed away without looking back.
Victor quickly took in the situation in the hospital room and knew at once, instinctively stepping back only to be called by Francis.
After entering, Victor saw Chloe pushed aside by Francis, who had a grave expression. With a stern face, he ordered, "Have someone take Chloe home."
Her face turned ashen in an instant.
She didn't want to leave, yearning to embrace Francis, but he stopped her sharply, "Chloe!"
"I'll say it again, go home!"
"Francis... I just want to be with you..."
Tears of sorrow welled in her eyes, giving her a particularly pitiful appearance.
But Francis didn't spare her a glance, his sharp eyes turning to Victor, "What are you waiting for?"
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