Falling into Her Trap: Don't Cross the Line, Mr. President

Chapter 62: Self-Control

Claire Shaw admitted she was somewhat greedy; although there was no love, she didn’t deny being addicted to this strong, excellent male body.

His Adam’s apple moved, and he said in a deep voice, "Are you sure you want to do it here?"

Parked by the roadside amidst the traffic, with only the occasional honking and a few pedestrians passing by.

Here, it felt both secretive and forbidden.

Claire’s skin was still a bit too thin, and she pouted, complaining, "No."

A slight smile appeared at the corners of Ethan Blackwood’s mouth, and he reached out to ruffle her hair, "A thief’s courage without the guts."

Who knew how it became like this between her and Ethan Blackwood?

It was clearly her who was impulsive at first, and now it was still her clinging to his body.

Yet she acted like a rogue, not wanting to take responsibility after taking advantage, and would get defensive when the topic of responsibility came up.

Although Ethan was anxious, remembering Claire’s tragic past, with Owen Crawford also marking her life with a grim note of dark history.

He could only take it slow, like boiling a frog in warm water, coaxing bit by bit.

Ethan took a deep breath, suppressing the wicked thoughts in his heart.

He started the car; even though it was only worth tens of thousands, the man in his suit was so noble and distinguished that even the car seemed luxurious.

The red on Claire’s face faded, and her rationality gradually returned.

"Ethan Blackwood, you really don’t have to do this. What I think isn’t important; this kind of car doesn’t match your status."

Ethan held the steering wheel with one hand and grabbed Claire’s slender wrist with the other.

"How can what you think not be important?"

The atmosphere in the car turned ambiguous, and his large hand lightly brushing the inside of her arm felt like it was igniting a fire in her heart.

Claire withdrew her hand, fastened her seatbelt, and rolled down the window a bit.

Letting the wind from outside cool the heat on her cheeks.

The car reached the apartment, and Claire quickly went upstairs without looking at him.

They entered the room one after the other, neither turned on the light nor took off their shoes. The moment the door closed, Claire pounced on Ethan like a little beast.

When he stood in front of her, fighting against the world and shielding her from arrows coming from all directions, Claire thought he was so handsome, so cool.

She wanted this man, wanted to see him, so aloof and high above, gradually stained with her presence.

Claire’s fingers rested on his belt buckle, her voice alluring and wicked: "Mr. Blackwood, should I continue?"