Chapter 334

Max was cautious around her wounds, not daring to let her soak in the bath for too long. He washed her swiftly, then carefully lifted her and placed her on the bed.

After ensuring she was settled, he turned and headed to the bathroom for a quick shower himself. He emerged shortly after, pulling on a pair of pajama bottoms and tying the drawstring at his waist. His physique was striking–broad shoulders, narrow waist–and as water dripped from his damp hair, he exuded an undeniable allure.

A knock came at the door. It was Wesley. “Sir, Ms. Alivia has called. She seems quite anxious and hopes you can join her abroad as soon as possible.”

Max paused in the act of drying his hair and opened the door to issue a command, “Fetch some antiseptic cream.”

Wesley nodded, and within a minute, he handed the cream to Max.

Max turned back, taking hold of Brielle’s foot, and gently applied the ointment to the fine cuts that had not become inflamed after soaking. After smoothing the cream over her wounds and additional spots on her legs, he went to wash his hands. Upon his return, his phone rang. He answered, massaging his temple, which throbbed with tension.

“Yeah, I’ll be there in two hours.”

Brielle, whose dark hair fanned across the pillow, contrasting with her skin like a fallen fairy in the

swallowed hard and called out

“Brielle?”

gaze quietly meeting his. No

tired it felt like a dream, as if she had been transported back to the beginning. Her eyes misted over as she looked at Max. The tips of her lashes were slightly drunk with sleepiness,

hair behind her ear. He intended to leave after that simple gesture, but Brielle bit down on his fingertip. There was a tiny imprint where her teeth

hitched, and he inhaled deeply, attempting to pull away. But she wrapped her arms around his waist, and her

fervor as red as blooming blossoms. He leaned in, pulling her close and setting her

her eyes cleared. “Mmm,” she managed, unable to form words. Max insisted

Chapter 334

falling backward, Brielle clung to his neck.

His voice was a deep, raspy whisper,

of what she had just done. Her

seemed to rise, their lips meeting with the Intensity of lightning striking dry timber. Eventually, Brielle opened her mouth

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