Chapter 273
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Chapter 273:
His hands shook as he pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed Jocelyn’s number. He needed to hear her voice. He needed to beg for forgiveness on his hands and knees.
The line clicked.
The number you have reached has blocked your call.
The automated voice was cold and mechanical.
𝘔𝗼𝗋𝖾 𝗇о𝘃el𝗌 𝗈𝗻 𝘨𝘢𝗅𝗇𝘰𝘷еlѕ.𝗰o𝘮
Kieran let the phone slip from his hand. It clattered onto the floor mat.
Morning sunlight pierced through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the Manhattan penthouse, casting long golden rectangles across the master bed.
Jocelyn woke slowly. She was incredibly warm. A heavy, solid weight rested across her waist, anchoring her to the mattress.
She opened her eyes. She was no longer on her side of the king-size bed. She had rolled entirely into the center during the night. Her head rested on Gaston’s outstretched arm, her back pressed flush against his broad, bare chest. She could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against her shoulder blades.
Jocelyn froze. Every muscle locked. She held her breath, terrified that the slightest movement would wake him.
She reached down carefully and pinched the duvet, trying to inch his arm off her waist.
The arm instantly tightened.
Gaston shifted behind her, pulling her flush against him and erasing the last sliver of space between them. He buried his face in the hair at the nape of her neck.
“Five more minutes, wife,” he murmured. His morning voice was a deep, gravelly vibration that sent a shiver straight down Jocelyn’s spine.
Her ears burned. Heat rushed to her cheeks.
Before she could respond, a faint squeaking drifted from the hallway — the rubber wheels of Grandma’s wheelchair rolling to a stop just outside the heavy walnut doors.
“Nurse, are the young people sleeping well?” Grandma’s voice carried in a loud, earnest whisper. “Do not wake them. They need their rest p>
Jocelyn’s eyes went wide. If she jumped out of bed now, the sudden noise would alert her grandmother standing right on the other side of the door.
Behind her, Gaston opened his eyes. There was no sleep in them. They were dark, sharp, and gleaming with amusement.
He moved with unhurried precision — rolling over, using his weight to ease Jocelyn onto her back, then sweeping the thick duvet up and over both their heads, pulling them into a dim, warm shelter.
He hovered inches above her face. The air beneath the blanket was close and warm, thick with his scent.
“Cooperate,” Gaston whispered, his lips barely brushing hers as he spoke. “We have ward rounds outside p>
Under the heavy duvet, the air was suffocatingly warm. Jocelyn felt her face burning. Gaston’s weight was a solid, immovable presence above her, the heat of his skin radiating through her thin silk pajamas. Every time he exhaled, his breath fanned across her lips.
She squeezed her eyes shut, praying her grandmother would move on. Her heart hammered so violently against her ribs she was certain Gaston could feel it.
The faint squeak of rubber wheels finally resumed, fading down the long hallway toward the kitchen.