The Platonic Trap novel Chapter 120

Her index finger trembled faintly in rhythm with her shallow breathing, tracing tiny, subconscious arcs across his palm.

Alistair's hand twitched, his instinct screaming at him to pull away and clench his fist.

But remembering that her delicate fingers were still resting helplessly in his grasp, he forced his hand to remain perfectly still, the muscles rigid with tension.

"Have you been... busy lately?"

Pushing past the burning warmth localized in his palm, Alistair broke the silence.

"Mmh..."

Clearly unwilling to think about work, she scrunched her face in a slight frown and shifted against the cushions, trying to find a more comfortable angle.

The doctor still hadn't returned.

The exhaustion was clearly winning. Celia's head began to bob, drooping forward like a sleepy child, looking completely miserable.

Seeing her struggle, Alistair parted his lips, about to say something.

But before he could, Celia looked up at him through a hazy, feverish blur. Her voice was thick and congested. "Uncle Alistair, let me just lean for a second..."

Being sick had apparently made her bold and utterly unreasonable.

Without waiting for permission, she tilted her head and let it drop heavily against his shoulder.

A sudden, scorching wave of lily of the valley washed over him.

Alistair instinctively turned his head away, finally slipping his hand out from beneath her burning fingers.

His brow furrowed deeply. Outside, the rain was coming down harder now.

The drumming of the storm completely masked the soft, uneven sound of her breathing.

The sweet, heavy scent of her perfume was beginning to thoroughly scramble his thoughts.

Alistair forced himself to speak again. "Are you making any progress at work?"

The girl shifted slightly. Instead of resting her cheek against his shoulder, she turned her face, pressing her forehead directly into him.

Her voice grew even smaller, completely muffled against his suit. "No..."

She was so small that his oversized suit jacket practically swallowed her whole.

With her forehead pressed against him, the intense heat radiating from her body slowly began to melt away the damp chill that had settled into his bones.

Alistair's lips pressed into a hard, unforgiving line.

"Larry Lambert is a highly capable project manager. If you're struggling with anything, you can ask him."

Celia went completely silent.

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