43. Loving Him Means Wanting to Be Close

"Killian, have you been under a lot of pressure lately?"

Three nights later, after dinner, Tara suddenly spoke up while Killian was feeding her fruit.

Killian fed her another cherry and opened his lips: "I'm fine. Why ask so suddenly?"

Tara bit into the cherry and didn't speak; she just lightly licked his slender fingertip.

It was a move that caught him off guard. Killian paused, then turned his fingers into a palm, cupping the side of her soft face.

"Are you a kitten?"

Tara took the opportunity to grab his large hand with both of hers, using the leverage to stand up and straddle his lap, hooking her arms around his neck.

"Actually, you don't have to hold back so hard." She looked at him without blinking.

Killian met her gaze quietly. After a moment, he raised his hand, his slender fingers gently tucking the stray hairs on her forehead behind her ear.

"Tara, you're still young."

After speaking, he leaned in and kissed her lips. "That kind of thing... you wouldn't be able to handle it."

And it wasn't just

that

thing.

Usually, when he just kissed her a bit more elsewhere without even using much force, the marks left on her would take several days to fade.

Beautiful, delicate, mentally resilient, but physically fragile—she deserved to be properly cherished.

At least, that’s what Killian believed.

But after hearing this, Tara pouted like a little goldfish, looking dejected.

Still young?

She was nineteen. Where was she still "young"?

"Who are you looking down on?" she muttered indignantly.

She stood up from his lap and went to the bedroom by herself.

It was her way of refusing to play with him anymore.

Killian let out a helpless laugh and headed to the study to continue his work.

When he worked, his focus and mental energy would be highly concentrated on his tasks, even to the point of forgetting the passage of time, unconsciously entering a late-night work state.

Tonight was the same.

Until the door of the study was pushed open from the outside.

It was a very slight movement, but Killian noticed. When he turned back, he was suddenly stunned.

"Killian, it's late. You should rest."

Tara walked in carrying a glass of milk.

Milk helps with sleep; she loved drinking it, but he was the opposite.

However, if she was the one giving it to him, he never refused.

But tonight, he didn't reach out to take it. He just stared at her with a heavy gaze.

She was only wearing a white shirt. The hem was long enough to completely cover the tops of her thighs.

The rest was mostly left bare and exposed to the air.

"Not drinking?"

Seeing him not move, she took the milk herself and straddled his lap.

To prevent her from falling, he instinctively supported her waist.

The touch was incredibly soft.

Naturally, she smelled exceptionally fragrant tonight, though he didn't know what she had applied.

Mixed with her natural begonia scent, it was practically a lethal aphrodisiac.

"Why are you dressed like this?" His magnetic voice was imperceptibly raspy.

Tara blinked innocently: "This shirt of yours looks good. I wanted to try it on."

A very clumsy excuse.

His Adam's apple rolled slightly. His large hand gripping her soft waist exerted a bit of force, pulling her tightly against his chest.

"Teasing me again, hmm?"

As he spoke, the prominence became more obvious.

A bulging mass—even without looking, one could tell the extent of his natural gift.

And this was only in a semi-awakened state; it was hard to imagine how staggering it would be when fully awake.

Tara’s expression was very innocent: "Am I?"

Her lively large eyes curved like little crescent moons soaked in starlight. She leaned close to his ear: "The milk is at the perfect temperature right now. Are you really not drinking it?"

"Is that so?" He chuckled softly, placing a peck on her lips that gradually transformed into a deep kiss.

Since the splint on his right hand had been removed, the functions his hand could perform had returned to normal.

In fact, even more so.

For example, easily gripping her waist or other parts.

Warm milk spilled, staining his originally dry fabric with dark marks.

"The milk spilled." Amidst the chaotic interval, her sweet, soft voice rang in his ear.

"It's wet and uncomfortable."

She dodged his kiss, looking down with a crimson face at the place where the liquid had soaked through.

She reached out and lightly poked him as a reminder: "Go to the bedroom and change into something clean."

It was an unexpectedly bold move. Killian took a deep breath, the veins on his forehead throbbing.

He laughed out of frustration, indignantly giving her white, tender cheek—which still had a bit of baby fat—a light pinch: "Brave Tara, have you no shame?"

Tara’s face was terrifyingly hot. she lowered her head, not daring to look at him anymore, her heart both excited and nervous.

That’s how the videos taught it.

Of course, it was supposed to be even bolder, but she really couldn't put it into practice any further.

A moment later.

"Sit still."

The scent of blood diffused.

He carried her out of the study and placed her on the soft sofa, then went to the bathroom while clutching his nose, which was bleeding incessantly.

Tara looked guiltily in the direction he left. Her face was as red as if it had been completely boiled; even her earlobes and neck were not spared.

She seemed to have backfired.

Lately, the

War God League

project that Starstream had been preparing for a long time entered an intense production phase. As the chief planner and one of the company's controllers, he was under mountain-like pressure.

She had originally wanted him to use this kind of thing to release some stress.

But now, she didn't know if she had overdone it; his pressure seemed to have grown even larger.

Killian must be annoyed to death by her.

The more Tara thought about it, the guiltier and more embarrassed she felt. She simply went back to her bedroom, changed into a normal nightgown, and lay in bed with her tablet, silently drawing to calm her mind.

As she drew, sleepiness hit her.

However, she didn't sleep for long; she was eventually woken up by pain.

That long-absent, bone-deep discomfort on her skin.

Even though it hurt this much, he didn't come looking for her.

So he must really be angry and annoyed with her, preferring to endure the pain rather than be close to her.

Tara suddenly felt very aggrieved.

For so long, she had been the proactive one.

She had thought that since he was now willing to listen to her in everything, he must like her at least a little bit.

But looking at it now, he might not like her much at all.

The so-called "fear that she couldn't handle it" might just be because he didn't like her enough.

They even slept in separate bedrooms to this day.

If you truly like someone, how can you resist being close to them?

To put it bluntly, it was all her unrequited love.

The more Tara thought about it, the sadder she got, stubbornly enduring the pain and refusing to go find him.

But she still underestimated the severity of this skin hunger outbreak.

The study door was pushed open again. Hearing the sound, Killian stopped his work and looked back.

"Tara?"

"Why are you awa—"

Before he could finish, he saw her beautiful eyes, drenched and glistening with tears.

His expression changed. He immediately stood up and pulled her into his arms, gently wiping her tears: "What's wrong? Did you have a nightmare?"

Because of this hug, that bone-deep pain finally received a tiny bit of relief.

Of course, only a tiny bit.

It was clearly his condition, yet even with a blade at his neck, his expression remained unchanged, as if nothing had happened—he even had the mood to continue working.

In contrast, she was like a useless addict, manipulated by him, her will even collapsing.

It was so unfair.

The more Tara thought about it, the more aggrieved she felt. Tears overflowed again: "You meanie, I don't want to like you anymore."

Killian's expression froze.