No Strings Attached

Chapter 279

The icy chill pricked Clara's eyes until they stung painfully. A complex tide of emotions surged within her chest beyond the grasp of words.

Ian leaned close, his breath warm against her cool earlobe as he playfully nipped it. His husky voice vibrated through her.

"From now on, you're mine, Clara. You even think about running, and I'll break those pretty legs of yours."

After declaring his claim, he rose from the ground, scooped her into his arms with a grin he couldn't mask, and as he showered her with kisses, he murmured, "It's too cold out here, sweetheart. I don't want you catching a chill. Let's get inside, and I'll warm you up properly, okay?"

His voice was raspier than usual, laced with a mischievous chuckle, sounding like a siren's call.

Clara’s cheeks burned hot as she nestled in his embrace, utterly speechless.

Ian's footsteps crunched on the snowy path beneath. Snowflakes continued their dance, and a bone-chilling breeze whipped at her face. Yet, deep within her heart, a warm current bubbled forth, soothing and sweet, as though it could melt the frigid weather itself.

Ian laid Clara on the bed, peeling off her puffer jacket. He pinched her cold cheeks. "Snuggle under the covers and wait for me. I'm gonna take a shower."

Obediently, Clara climbed into bed, pulling the blankets over herself. Minutes later, the bathroom door swung open, and Ian emerged.

He was clad in a black silk robe loosely tied at the waist, which revealed a vast expanse of his sculpted torso. His wet, raven locks were carelessly pushed back, unveiling his sharp, commanding features.

He exuded a lazy, powerful allure that made Clara's breath hitch. Her hands trembled beneath the covers, clenched tightly together. This belongs to NôvelDrama.Org.

Ian strode over, kissed her forehead, and teased with a playful grin, "Caught staring, huh? Just wait. There's more to see."

Her face flushed, Clara buried it into the blankets, only for Ian to pull her back out. He nuzzled her neck, murmuring, "Help me dry my hair, will you?"

Clara promptly fetched the hairdryer from the drawer, plugged it in, and straddled his lap as her slender fingers wove through his damp hair.

As she was focused on her task, Ian's hands began to wander beneath her nightgown, pinching the soft flesh at her waist. She couldn't suppress a muffled whimper, her spine quivering. The hairdryer's movements grew erratic.

"Just a few more minutes," she whispered.

Ian's lips curled into a sly smile. "You do your thing, and I'll do mine. We won't get in each other's way."

How he managed to make such roguish words sound so utterly regal was beyond her. Clara increased the hairdryer's speed, wanting to finish quickly, but Ian's advances became increasingly bold. Soon, the hairdryer's hum was replaced by Clara's soft, labored breaths.

Outside, the world was a vision of silver serenity, but inside, passion painted the room with fervent, wild hues.

When Clara awoke the next day, it was already past three in the afternoon. The memories of the previous night's proposal from the man she'd loved for seven years sent ripples through her heart.

He'd promised a future filled with shared beauty and happiness.

A smile played on Clara's lips.

Just then, the bedroom door opened, and Ian approached the bed, bending down to press a kiss to her lips, his voice a sultry growl, "Mrs. Hayes, time to rise. We've got a marriage certificate to get."