Chapter 263
Lizetta yanked her hand out of Remington’s scorching palm like her life depended on it.
She was about to struggle when Remington flipped off of her.
The
guy sat on the edge of the bed, peeled off his shirt, and the sun kissed his back, muscles rolling smoothly with his movements,” sexy as hell.
But Lizetta, she lifted her foot, on autopilot trying to give him another piece of her mind – or rather, her foot, aiming to kick him off the
bed.
Little did she know, Remington seemed to have eyes in the back of his head. The moment her foot went up, his cool voice cut through the air.
“Try kicking me again and I’ll make you cry under me!”
His voice was husky, the last word heavy with a warning laced with restrained desire.
Lizetta chickened out, her raised foot reluctantly retreating.
But Remington just sat there catching his breath, not making another move.
Lizetta’s heartbeat slowly settled down too, as she lay there, unknowingly fixated on the man’s back.
He had that kind of bod that flexed with clothes on, and even more so with them off – a real piece of eye candy, muscles in all the right places.
His back and shoulders were well–developed, a thin layer perfectly covering his spine, tapering down to a tight waist, and even the vertebrae at the base of his neck were ruggedly perfect.
—
The guy’s skin was pale, delicate, and glossy. Old scars on his back and right side didn’t make him any less enticing in fact, they added a wild, rugged story to his charm.
Lizetta had never really scoped out his body like this before; he never gave her the chance, always dressed quicker than a blushing bride.
She’d caught a glimpse of those scars before, a couple on his chest and abdomen.
Lizetta had asked about them, but he told her to mind her own beeswax.
Now, her attention was back on those scars. They’d faded but still looked fierce, making you wonder how bad the wounds had been.
But before he went abroad, he was unmarked, Even overseas, as the Dashiell family heir, he had a ton of people watching his back, living the high life who could’ve hurt him?
–
Why all these scars, as if he’d lived the life of a fugitive abroad?
Lizetta couldn’t figure it out, and Remington wasn’t spilling the beans.
As they’d grown up, they’d gathered too many secrets between them.
Remington no longer let her into his world.
“Lizetta, keep staring and I’ll take it as an invitation,” he suddenly turned, his eyes smoldering and deep, locking onto Lizetta’s sneaky
gaze.
Lizetta’s face flushed again, and she scrambled up, making her escape from the other side of the bed.
“I’m not inviting you! You stripped down to nothing, giving me no choice but to look.”
Remington chuckled, “How else am I supposed to apply the ointment? Go get the burn cream.”
“Oh.”
That’s when it clicked for Lizetta. She was there to help with his burn.
She rummaged for the cream but didn’t come any closer, tossing it on the bed before announcing, “It’s on your chest, you can reach it. I’m going to see Grandma.”
Like a rabbit running for its life, she didn’t dare get close to the dangerous big bad wolf again.
1
Dropping the cream, she dashed to the door and bolted out.
The door slammed shut behind her, and Remington just sat there, looking at the cream by his hand and laughing to himself.
When Lizetta got back to Fiona’s room, Fiona seemed to be asleep, propped up against the headboard.
Lizetta tiptoed over, about to pull up the blanket that had slipped down to her waist when Fiona opened her eyes and asked,
“Liz, are you really leaving tomorrow? Can’t you stay?”
10-20
Turns out, Fiona wasn’t asleep; she’d been waiting for her.
Lizetta sat down beside the bed, holding Fiona’s hand, her eyes brimming with love and guilt.
“Grandma, I’ve made up my mind.”
Fiona sighed, nodding her head, “Alright, Liz. If you’ve decided, then I will support you.”
Tears threatened to spill from Lizetta’s eyes, but not wanting Fiona to see, she leaned in and rested her head on Fiona’s shoulder.
“Grandma, you agree, thank you. I’ll video call you often.”
