Goodbye, Mr. Regret novel Chapter 142

Jessica's face had turned pale, her gentle eyes frozen in a moment of shock.

Timothy's tenderness poured over her like a wash of moonlight—so overwhelming, she felt as if she might drown in it.

A deep, gnawing fear rose inside her.

She was terrified of falling for him again.

Hidden beneath the silk comforter, her hand clenched into a tight fist, fingernails digging into her palm for a sharp sting that helped anchor her in reality.

She pressed her lips together and turned her delicate face slightly away.

She wanted nothing from him—not even his kindness.

Timothy, unusually patient tonight, spoke in a low, velvety voice. "Don't want me to feed you like this?"

She didn't quite understand what he meant.

No matter how much she hurt, she didn't want to accept his help—not even a cup of hot tea from his hands.

All she wanted was to draw a clear line between them, the sooner the better.

When she remained silent, Timothy's long, elegant fingers reached out and gently lifted her chin.

He raised the porcelain cup, took a sip of hot tea, then leaned in—his strikingly handsome features filling her vision—pressed his lips to hers, and held her jaw, forcing her mouth open.

The warmth of the tea flooded Jessica's mouth.

She tried to push him away, her face twisting with surprise and confusion.

But Timothy didn't let go—not until she'd swallowed every drop of tea he'd passed to her.

She coughed, her throat burning from the heat—or maybe from something else entirely.

Her almond eyes shimmered, wide and wet, as she stared up at the impossibly beautiful face before her.

Timothy's mood seemed to lift; her pure, vulnerable innocence delighted him. With a rough fingertip, he gently wiped the last trace of ginger tea from the corner of her lips.

"If you wanted me to feed you like this," he murmured, "you only had to ask."

Before she knew it, he'd fed her the entire bowl of tea in this intimate, almost shameless way.

Setting the cup aside, Timothy lifted the comforter and slipped into bed.

He pulled Jessica into his arms, her back pressed firmly against his chest.

Under the covers, she was surrounded by his presence—his scent, intoxicating and addictive.

His strong hand slid under her silk nightgown, coming to rest on her cold stomach.

The warmth of the ginger tea in her belly and the heat of his palm on her skin intertwined, soothing the pain of her cramps in ways medicine never could.

Cancer, a broken home—Jessica had tried desperately to hide her weakness, but at her core, she was fragile.

Just as anyone wants company when they're sick, a part of her longed for someone by her side.

No matter how Timothy had neglected her in the past, in this moment, she felt a sliver of real comfort—something she hadn't realized she still craved.