No Strings Attached novel (Clara and Ian) novel Chapter 250

Clara whipped around, her gaze locking with Ian's deep-set eyes. She immediately dropped her fork and darted to the bedside. "Ian, you’re awake? Do you feel off anywhere?"

Ian glanced at Brodie and croaked out, "Clara, who is this guy? I don't like him. Get him out of here."

Clara looked at Ian in disbelief, "That's Brodie, the one who saved me once. Don't tell me you've forgotten. You don't have amnesia, do you? You do know who I am, right?"

"Of course, you're my wife-to-be." With that, he pulled Clara into his embrace and planted a kiss on her lips.

Then he cocked his head towards Brodie. "Ever heard of giving a couple some privacy, or is that too much to ask?"

Brodie couldn't help but laugh at this brazen move. "I've just never seen someone so chipper right after waking up. You haven't been faking this whole coma thing, have you, Mr. Hayes?"

Ian, trying to maintain a casual demeanor, clenched his teeth in annoyance. "Why don't you lie down and give it a try yourself?"

Attempting to rise, Ian winced as his wound throbbed in protest. He inhaled sharply, giving Clara a look of pitiful reproach. "Clara, he's aggravating me to the point my wound hurts. Just kick him out, will you?"

Before Clara could respond, Brodie interjected. "No need to throw me out. I'll leave once Clara answers my question."

"She won't want anyone but me, so beat it!"

Ian had overheard their entire conversation. He suddenly understood why Brodie knew so much about Clara—they had shared their childhoods together, and those memories lingered vividly in her mind.

What were they? Childhood sweethearts with a storybook friendship? Was Brodie's aim to snatch Clara from his grasp?

After imparting some care instructions, the doctor left them alone. Once again, the hospital room fell silent.

Ian gazed at Clara's petite face, his heart aching with tenderness. "Clara," he called out softly, his voice hoarse and slightly vulnerable.

She moved closer, her eyes filled with warmth. "What's wrong? Does the wound hurt? Let me check."

Ian caught Clara's hand and placed it over his heart. His eyes held hers with an intense, tangled gaze. "It's not the wound. It's here that hurts." The pain was so acute he wanted to press her against him and comfort her thoroughly.

Clara felt the heat of Ian's skin burn her fingertips, the warmth shooting up her arm straight to the depths of her heart. A wave of warmth spread outward from the core of her being. She leaned into Ian, her moist lips planting a soft kiss on his chest. Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears, and her delicate lips curled up slightly. "Does it still hurt now?"