Chapter 1247 Forbidden Love
Randy's breath caught in his throat, his usually gentle eyes clouded with something deeper, as if she were the only person left in this quiet, suspended world.
Stella's breathing quickened, her lashes fluttering like startled butterfly wings. They stared at each other in electric silence, neither daring to speak. Time seemed frozen, the temperature in the room climbing degree by degree as an intoxicating tension flowed between them.
The dim lighting only intensified the charged atmosphere. Stella found herself drowning in Randy's gaze, as if his eyes were a whirlpool pulling her deeper. Randy's attention dropped to the cut on her lip, and he swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing twice.
Their faces were so close now—just a breath away from a kiss. But he couldn't. She was his cousin. Her dependence on him, the way she clung to him, was only because he was family—just like how she used to follow Charles around when they were children. He didn't even have the right to pursue her. All he could do was maintain proper boundaries and be the cousin she needed.
The room was so quiet they could hear each other's heartbeats. Randy fought against every instinct screaming at him to close that final distance, rolling onto his back to stare at the ceiling fixture instead. "What are you doing here?" he asked, his voice rough and strangely intimate despite his attempt at detachment.
Stella pouted, her tone carrying the petulant sweetness of a lover's complaint. "It's already afternoon, and you haven't texted me all day. I came to check on you."
A sharp ache pierced Randy's chest, his hands clenching into fists as he struggled against the inexplicable pain spreading through him. "I had too much to drink last night. Overslept."
Her legs had gone numb from crouching, so Stella stood and settled cross-legged on the edge of his bed with practiced ease. "I was pretty drunk too! My head was killing me this morning, but thank God you sent Lowell with those pills. I feel completely fine now."
"Good," Randy replied absently, his mind involuntarily replaying the memory of her forceful kiss from the night before. The ache in his chest intensified, spreading through his body like ripples on water.
Stella noticed his distant tone—so different from his usual warmth, almost cold. But she attributed it to his hangover and leaned closer, pointing to her injured lip. "Randy, I woke up with this cut on my mouth. Do you know what happened?"
Randy's breath hitched, his fists clenching tighter. His usually articulate mind scrambled for an explanation, desperately searching for a way to deflect.
When he remained silent, Stella continued thoughtfully, "You don't remember either? I must have bumped into something after you left last night. At least it's not serious—imagine if I'd knocked out a tooth!"
Relief flooded through Randy as she provided her own explanation. But just as he began to relax, Stella delivered another bombshell.
"But Randy, why is your lip cut too? In exactly the same place as mine?"
Randy felt his soul nearly leave his body. Cold sweat broke out across his palms as his mind raced with terrifying possibilities. 'Did she remember? Would she be disgusted with him for harboring such inappropriate feelings? Would she pull away from him forever?'
While Randy spiraled into panic, Stella grew impatient with his silence and gave him a firm push. "Randy, why won't you answer me? Are you still hungover? Did I wake you up too early?"
Randy couldn't bring himself to meet her eyes. "Yes, my head's still pounding. Why don't you go back to the hotel or find Hannah? I need more rest."
Her concern immediately shifted. "Haven't you taken any hangover medicine?"
"No," he replied distractedly.
Seeing his genuinely pale complexion, Stella decided not to press further. "Alright then, get some rest. I'll go."
"Okay."
Randy turned away, presenting his back to her, terrified that if she stayed any longer, his carefully guarded feelings would become impossible to hide.
To his surprise, Stella gently pulled the covers up to his shoulders. "Sleep well, Randy. I'll see you later."
"Mm."
After she left, closing the door softly behind her, Randy felt simultaneously relieved and devastated. Now that she was gone, sleep was impossible. He rolled over, staring blankly at the ceiling while his fingers unconsciously traced the cut on his lip.
Even after a full night, he could still feel the phantom warmth of her kiss. He remembered how soft her lips had been, cool and sweet like silk against his skin—addictive from the very first taste.
Just thinking about Stella sent his heart into overdrive. He pressed his palm against his chest, willing his pulse to slow, but it was useless. His heart hammered against his ribs as if it might burst from his throat.
"Calm down," he told himself repeatedly. "This has to stop. I need to be rational. She's my cousin. We're family."
But before his self-imposed therapy could take effect, the door burst open again. Stella had returned, carrying a glass of water and wearing that radiant smile that undid him completely.
Randy bolted upright, his heart skipping several beats as his thoughts scattered like leaves in a hurricane.
"You—I thought you left. Why are you back?" For the first time in his life, he stammered.
Stella perched on the bed's edge, offering him the water glass before producing a medicine box like a magician revealing her final trick. "I was going to buy you hangover pills, but then I remembered Aunt Patricia's a doctor—you guys must have a medicine cabinet. So I called her, and sure enough, she said there were some in the house. I brought them up for you. Take two and your headache will disappear."
Looking at her earnest, innocent face glowing with concern, Randy felt his entire body go rigid. His heart raced faster than ever, and he felt like he was being slowly boiled alive. All the emotional walls he'd so carefully constructed came crashing down in an instant, leaving nothing but rubble in their wake.
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