Chapter 103 I Promise I Won't Cross the Line

Chapter 103 I Promise I Won't Cross the Line

Caroline's hand shot out on instinct, catching the bowl before it could fall. The porcelain was still hot, the heat biting into her fingertips as she set it carefully on the nightstand.

Her skin reddened instantly. She pressed her fingers against her cool earlobe, trying to ease the sting.

She turned to Alexander, meeting his wide, shocked eyes, and forced a reassuring smile.

"It's fine. There wasn't much left in the bowl. Just a little hot. I'm okay."

Kenna rushed in with a basin of cold water.

Caroline wrung out a cold cloth and gently pressed it against the angry red mark on Alexander's hand, her movements careful and precise as she wiped away the heat.

She glanced up at Kenna. "Go get a clean set of sheets. These are ruined."

Kenna nodded and hurried out.

She returned quickly with fresh linens.

Kenna approached the bed, reaching for the soiled blanket. But the moment her fingers touched the fabric, Caroline noticed Alexander's body go rigid.

His face tightened. His good hand clenched the edge of the blanket, clearly resisting Kenna's touch.

Caroline's eyes narrowed slightly. She understood immediately.

"Kenna." Her voice softened. "I'll take those. You should go rest. I can handle this."

Kenna hesitated, worry creasing her brow. "Ma'am, you haven't eaten anything. You've been up all night… are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine. Really. I've got this." Caroline took the sheets from her hands and gently nudged her toward the door.

Kenna left reluctantly, glancing back over her shoulder.

Caroline set the clean linens aside and turned to Alexander, concern flickering in her eyes.

His face was still pale, his jaw tight, his gaze avoiding hers.

Caroline studied him carefully, then moved closer to the bed. "Were you burned somewhere else?" she asked quietly.

She reached for the blanket.

Alexander's body went rigid again. He said nothing, but his grip on the fabric tightened.

Caroline paused. She didn't pull. She just looked at him, her gaze patient, waiting.

A few seconds passed.

Finally, Alexander's hand loosened. His fingers went slack, powerless.

Caroline lifted the soaked blanket carefully.

What she saw made her understand his resistance immediately.

The spilled soup had soaked through the blanket and into the thin silk robe he was wearing. The fabric clung to his skin, damp and scalding, right at the top of his thigh.

The location was… intimate.

Caroline froze. Her eyes flicked away instinctively, heat rising in her cheeks.

But worry quickly overrode embarrassment.

That skin was delicate. It had to hurt.

"Let me see."

Alexander's head snapped toward her, his hand moving to stop her. But Caroline had already pushed the fabric aside.

She sucked in a sharp breath.

The skin was red and blistered, angry welts already forming.

The position was sensitive enough. What made her chest tighten further was the realization—she'd been the one to dress him in that robe.

She'd been in such a rush, she'd forgotten to put underwear on him.

Now, as she lifted the silk, everything was exposed.

Caroline's focus was entirely on the burn. She wasn't thinking about anything else.

But from Alexander's angle, it didn't look that way.

"Enjoying the view?" His voice was cold, cutting.

Caroline blinked, startled. She looked up at him. "What?"

Alexander didn't answer. His gaze dropped pointedly to where her hand hovered.

Caroline's face flushed. "No! I was just—your burn needs to be treated right away, or it'll scar. It could get infected."

She stood abruptly, not waiting for a response, and left the room.

Alexander stared after her, blinking.

She just… left? That quickly?

Before he could process it, Caroline was back.

She carried an ice pack in one hand, freshly sterilized with alcohol.

"Ice first. It'll keep the blisters from getting worse. The medicine won't hurt as much if we cool it down."

Alexander saw the ice pack coming toward him and tensed. His arm shot out, blocking her. "I don't need your help. Get out."

Caroline's steps slowed, but she didn't leave.

Instead, she knelt on the cold floor beside the bed, looking up at him.

"Alexander, I know you hate me. Because of what happened. When you're better, you can punish me however you want. But right now, you need to let me treat this."

Her voice fell to a whisper.

"I won't… I won't think anything I shouldn't. I promise."

Alexander stared at her, almost laughing.

Did she even hear herself?

What did she mean, she wouldn't think anything she shouldn't? Even if she did, did she really think he could stop her?

But then the memories came flooding back—fever-blurred images of losing control, of her hands on him, of things he couldn't stop.

His jaw clenched. He looked away.

He'd just said that like he hadn't already been at her mercy.

The most humiliating part? Right now, he was too weak to push her away even if he wanted to.

While he wrestled with his thoughts, Caroline pressed the ice pack gently against the burn.

The jolt of cold against the burn made Alexander hiss, his body jerking involuntarily.

"Just hold on. The cold will help." Caroline's voice was soft, steady.

Her movements were careful, avoiding the most sensitive areas. But her fingertips still brushed his skin occasionally.

Alexander turned his head away, eyes squeezed shut, his brow furrowed in a tight knot.

He felt like a helpless patient, forced to let the woman he despised most tend to such an intimate wound.

And in this suffocating atmosphere, he realized something shameful.

The skin at the top of his thigh trembled faintly under her touch.

And his cock—exhausted, spent from days of excess—began to stir.

Of all times, now.