Forced to Marry the Sickly Billionaire-Chapter 307: Does It Hurt?

Stepping out of the bathroom, Serena Summers’ cheeks were blushingly red.

As if they were coated with a fine layer of rouge, delicate and enchanting, making it hard for anyone to look away.

Her clothes were thoroughly soaked.

It was summer, and she was dressed lightly; the water made her clothes cling to her body, revealing her exquisite curves.

Adrian Holt’s deep eyes darkened, not sure where to rest his gaze.

Serena asked cautiously, "Did you... hurt yourself when you fell?"

Adrian Holt felt the pain emanating from his tailbone and gritted his teeth: "What do you think?"

"I’m sorry, it wasn’t on purpose. Let me get you some medicine, where did you hurt yourself?"

Serena quickly took out various bottles and jars from her bag and arranged them on the coffee table in the room.

"Did you make all these yourself?" Adrian Holt picked up a small porcelain jar and sniffed it after opening the lid.

The ointment inside didn’t have the unpleasant scent commonly found in commercial products, but rather it smelled more like fruitwood.

Adrian Holt sniffed again, his brow furrowing slightly; he was sure it was his first time smelling this fragrance, yet it strangely felt familiar.

Flashes of images suddenly crossed his mind, and as Adrian Holt tried to chase after them, they vanished without a trace.

"Do you need my help? Let me look at your injury."

Serena approached and reached to untie the towel around Adrian Holt’s waist.

Adrian Holt’s temples throbbed as he hastily stepped back, covering his towel with his hands and rebuked sharply: "Serena, can’t you show a little restraint?"

How could she be so adept at undoing a man’s towel?

Serena also realized that her actions were too aggressive and withdrew her hand awkwardly, muttering defensively: "I was just concerned about you! Can you even see it yourself?"

Adrian Holt: "...Yes."

Worried that Serena might attempt anything else, Adrian Holt quickly retreated to the restroom to apply the ointment.

By the time he had finished and came out, Serena had already changed into her pajamas and lay in bed.

Seeing him emerge, her eyes were sparkling brightly, as if countless crushed stars were scattered into those eyes.

An absurd thought suddenly sprouted in Adrian Holt’s heart; he wanted to kiss her.

His sensuous Adam’s apple bobbed, and Adrian Holt snapped back to reality.

Realizing what he was thinking, his face darkened, and he casually picked a bathrobe from the wardrobe to put on.

Seeing him approach the bed, Serena assumed he would sleep beside her, her lips curving slightly.

However, before she could say anything, he picked up a pillow and lay down on the sofa.

Serena sat up from the bed, irritated, and asked him, "Why are you sleeping there?"

Adrian Holt rose slowly, his elbow resting on the back of the sofa, looking at her leisurely, "Mrs. Shaw, accompanying someone in bed has a separate price."

Serena laughed out of frustration, "What? Is what I’m giving you not enough?"

Adrian Holt’s lips curved slightly, "I am a principled man, I only earn money rightfully."

Serena glared at him grumpily and then lay back down.

This time she turned to her side, giving him her back.

Adrian Holt good-humoredly reminded her: "Remember to turn off the light."

Serena sat up abruptly from the bed, switched off the light at hand, and lay back down again.

Adrian Holt, finding something amusing, had his eyes and brows tinted with a smile.

He found that when Serena was angry, she was as childish as a kid, her eyes as expressive as if they could talk, easy for anyone to see right through.

Not like those in the organization... always wearing a mask no matter whom they face.

Between him and those people, there was only interest, no emotions.

To survive, one must become strong enough... strong enough not to have a single weakness.

Adrian Holt placed his right hand under his head and clicked his tongue in contemplation.

This place was truly blissful, with neither the stench of blood nor the cutthroat scheming and manipulation.

He was somewhat reluctant to leave.

Serena Summers wasn’t asleep either. A line of clear tears silently streamed down from the corners of her eyes, tracing her cheeks before disappearing into her black hair.

She bit her lip, not daring to make a sound.

Two years ago, when Lucas Shaw revealed that his blood was the antidote they had all been dreaming of, she guessed that if the organization found out, they would never let him go easily.

Just now, she had seen Adrian Holt’s arms covered with dense needle marks, both fresh and old.

They were probably all from blood extractions.

The thought of him being used as a human blood bank for those people’s experiments over the last two years tore her heart in half with brute force.

At this moment, a deep voice suddenly sounded in the room, "Serena Summers?"

Serena moved slightly without turning around, "Hmm?"

"Haven’t fallen asleep yet?"

"No."

"Can’t sleep?"

"Hmm."

"Oh."

Just an "Oh"?

A twitch appeared at the corner of Serena’s mouth, as she sat up in bed and turned the bedside lamp back on, gazing towards the couch, "Aren’t you being a bit too perfunctory?"

Adrian Holt chuckled, rising from the couch, and looked at the silhouette on the bed, "You’re the patron, your call. Tell me, what do you want to do?"

Serena then revealed a satisfied smile and waved at him, "Come here."

"Do what? I perform skills, not my body!" Adrian Holt leaned lazily against the back of the couch, lifting his lids to glance at Serena.

Serena looked at him speechless, "I asked you to come over and chat with me, not to sell yourself."

"Oh, you should’ve said so earlier." Adrian Holt’s lips carried a smile, and even though his face remained unchanged, there was an added air of roguishness about him.

He walked over and sat on the bed, reclining with his back against the headboard, hands cushioned behind his head, exuding a relaxed and carefree attitude.

"Chat about what?"

Serena pulled his arm down, her fingertips gently caressing over his forearm.

Touched by her in such a way, the smile on Adrian Holt’s face instantly vanished, and he straightened up slowly, trying to withdraw his arm.

However, Serena gripped it even tighter, her eyes intently focusing on the area riddled with needle marks.

Adrian Holt’s heart clenched, uncertain of what Serena intended to do.

At that moment, she slowly lifted her head, her eyes already moist, the rims red with emotion. ƒrēewebnoѵёl.cσm

"Does it hurt?"

Adrian Holt gazed back at Serena in a daze, seeing the deep concern in her eyes; the tall walls he had painstakingly built up inside him crumbled in an instant, shattered beyond repair.

Having lived so long, everyone around him had said his unique constitution was a choice of the heavens.

No matter how much suffering he endured, it was deemed worthwhile.

But no one had ever asked him if it hurt.

It did hurt, how could it not?

Each needle brought a tube of blood.

The incompetents in their laboratory could never figure anything out, failing again and again.

With each of their failures, they drew blood from him.

He could only serve as a mobile blood bank, ever-ready for them to extract fresh blood.

Those ineffectual people expected him to pay for their inadequacies.

Everyone thought it was only right for him to be bled, to be used as an experiment.

Serena Summers was the first to ask him if it hurt.