Falling For My Ex's Dad (Clarissa and Gabriel) novel Chapter 169

Gabriel’s POV

I gently pulled the duvet down and slipped my arms around her, lifting her against me. Her body was burning, her skin clammy, her breath shallow. She didn’t stir—just shivered helplessly in my arms, trapped in some fever dream.

“Clairessa.” My voice cracked as I shook her gently, trying to coax her into consciousness.

“Hey, open your eyes… please.”

No response.

“It’s me. Gabriel. I’m here,” I whispered, lifting her slowly into my arms and brushing damp strands of hair from her face.

Her eyelids fluttered, and for a moment, they opened. Our eyes met—just briefly. She gave the faintest smile, soft and dazed—then slipped back into the fever, her eyes shutting again.

Fuck.

I had to do something.

I lowered her carefully onto the mattress and rushed to the bathroom, soaking a towel in warm water.

I came back and laid it across her forehead, holding it there, hoping to ease the heat. After a minute or two, I replaced it with a fresh one, trying to bring her temperature down.

But I knew that wouldn’t be enough.

The cold had settled deep into her bones, and no towel could fix that.

She needed warmth—real, penetrating heat that reached from the inside out.

I hurried back to the bathroom and ran a hot bath, steam rising steadily as the tub filled.

By the time I returned, she was still trembling, her breathing shallow.

I lifted her into a seated position, her back resting gently against the headboard. Then I undressed her carefully—removing the sweater, then her socks—until only her joggers remained.

My fingers traced the edge of the elastic waistband of her sweatpants, as though contemplating whether to remove them or not. Not because I didn’t know what I was doing, but because I was trying to stop the fire sparking in my chest. I knew exactly how my body would react to seeing her naked.

I hastily pulled down the heavy fabric, intending to look away—just to get her into the bath. Nothing more.

But the moment I realized she wasn’t wearing anything underneath, heat surged through my body.

My eyes betrayed me, dragging over the swell of her breasts, lingering too long on the delicate V between her legs.

God… this wasn’t about me. It was about her. She needed care, not desire.

It took every ounce of strength to tear my gaze away from her flawless, breathtaking body… even though every nerve in me burned to keep looking.

I lifted her into my arms and carried her into the bathroom.

Once inside, I gently lowered her into the steaming tub, cradling her until her body sank into the water.

She winced, then relaxed, like her body instinctively recognized it needed the heat.

I placed a towel behind her head for support, then dipped a smaller cloth into the bath.

Carefully, I ran it over her skin—her arms, her shoulders, her neck—trying to coax the warmth back into her. Her skin was soft. Alarmingly cold.

When I brought the towel to her face, I wiped away the sweat, tracing the delicate curve of her cheek.

Then I paused—unable to stop myself from admiring how beautiful and innocent she looked, even now, weak with fever.

Drawn in, I let my thumb graze the curve of her lips. They were red, soft, and familiar.

I desperately wanted to kiss the cold away—to make her forget the storm, the pain, the fever—but I didn’t. I couldn’t.

My gaze lingered for a moment—her skin flushed, half-submerged in water, every inch of her still breathtaking.

I dragged the cloth across the center of her chest, then moved lower, passing between the gentle rise of her breasts.

Desire surged through me as I watched her nipples harden—whether from the contrast of heat and chill, or the brush of my touch, I didn’t know.

But it stirred something dark inside me. Something I fought to suppress.

I forced my gaze and focus downward, guiding the towel over her flat stomach, reminding myself why I was here.

This wasn’t about what I wanted. It couldn’t be.

Gently, I massaged the warmth into her skin—pressing heat deeper into her muscles, into her bones—trying to chase away the fever.

But then… my hands trailed lower, gliding along her inner thighs.

Every part of her was perfect.

And painfully vulnerable.

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