CHAPTER 48: CHAPTER 48: COVETING, LONGING, TEMPTATION

Poppy Hale knew her behavior was somewhat a cover-up.

But she really couldn’t bring herself to look.

Declan Hawthorne gazed at her, "There’s drinks in the fridge. I’m going to change. Any requests for the shots you wanted?"

"It would be best if you had both the armband and the shirt clips."

"Got it."

Poppy felt that her request seemed a bit too much.

Yet, Declan agreed to it all.

Before, it wasn’t like she hadn’t used Declan as a model reference, but mostly for drawing some ambiguous, romantic poses.

Back then, Finn Young’s drawing style was called the god of youthfulness.

Now, her style was gradually maturing.

Declan’s home could be showcased as a developer’s model unit, with all black furniture and dark walnut flooring.

Spotless.

The fridge was full of alcohol, a few unopened bottles of milk, and some colorful clear bottles, probably juice.

Poppy picked one out.

Took a sip, it was a bit bitter.

So she stopped drinking, not realizing it was alcohol since everything on the bottle was written in Russian.

She didn’t know.

There wasn’t any juice in Declan’s fridge.

From the bedroom came faint sounds, and the man soon emerged fully dressed in a suit Poppy hadn’t seen before.

There were embroidered designs on the tie, just casually draped over his neck as he walked out.

Poppy remembered that in the picture she had sent, the tie was also casually and lazily draped like that.

Her face flushed red involuntarily.

Declan, however, had a businesslike demeanor, "Where? Is the carpet here okay?"

"It’s fine, anywhere works."

Declan’s home is carpeted throughout.

Photos could be taken anywhere.

The man approached her step by step, kneeling down before Poppy where she was sitting.

Poppy looked at Declan.

For a moment, she even forgot to breathe.

He reached out, holding her hand, placing it on his chin.

Poppy felt her face must be red now, probably even her ears were burning bright red.

Declan was well-built, his arms and thighs all solid muscle.

Meaning, through the suit pants, the shirt clips were almost clearly visible.

Further up, the kneeling position inevitably made certain areas more pronounced.

Poppy’s fingers, guided by Declan, slid across his chin.

The man looked up, with a faint, indistinct smile at the corner of his mouth.

Poppy’s heart thumped one beat after another.

It was Declan who reminded her, "Take the photo."

Only then did she, as if waking from a dream, pick up her phone, taking several pictures, whispering, "I won’t post these, don’t worry."

A subtle displeasure flashed across Declan’s face.

He clenched his back molars.

"Poppy Hale, since when did you become so polite?"

There seemed to be a large gap between them.

He didn’t like it.

But Poppy insisted stubbornly, "You are my boss."

Declan’s smile turned a bit wicked.

"Boss? No employee would come to their boss’s home at this hour alone."

He didn’t want to admit he was doing it on purpose.

He knew, Poppy must have come to him for reference images now, probably out of sheer necessity.

So he provoked her deliberately.

Poppy only felt the spot where Declan held her wrist was burning hot.

Something crawled along the sensitive and fragile nerve endings, spreading to every corner of her body.

Making her a bit dizzy.

Her fingers also applied some force.

She herself didn’t know, she had gotten tipsy.

The smaller the bottle in Declan’s fridge, the higher the alcohol content.

The sip Poppy took was strong vodka.

She gripped Declan’s chin, somewhat displeased.

"Wearing too much, take it off."

"Take off the jacket, and the shirt too, hurry up."

Declan stared at Poppy’s face, turning to see the opened bottle on the coffee table.

She didn’t drink milk, so why drink this?

But since she drank it, Declan didn’t stop her either.

Knowing she was drunk.

Leisurely took off his jacket, when unbuttoning his shirt, Poppy pressed down on his hand.

"Let me help you, you’re so slow."

Her slender fingers slowly unbuttoned his shirt one by one.

That face, with a thin scent of alcohol, a rosy hue spreading across it, very close, so close her breath fell on his chest.

Declan’s breathing also grew a bit heavier.

"Poppy, do you know who I am?"

She wouldn’t have mistaken him for her ex-husband?

This realization brought a subtle sourness to Declan’s heart.

Poppy paused, looking up at Declan.

"Who are you? Declan?"

His name uttered from her lips.

Declan’s heart, which had calmed down, was stirred again by the movement of her lips.

She had been drinking, and kept licking her lips, looking rosy and full.

Like cherries painted on a glass bottle.

Declan held Poppy’s fingers, tightening his grip, almost enveloping her entire hand.

"Who’s Sean Lynch?"

Poppy paused.

Her brows slightly furrowed.

Seemed a bit unhappy with Declan bringing up someone else at such a moment.

But Declan maintained his grip on her hand, not letting her continue.

Poppy could only put on a stern face, "A bad man!"

Sean knew about the dispute between her and Stella but chose Stella.

He’s a bad person.

Declan released her hand.

Poppy happily took several photos, holding her phone and looking for a long time.

"Declan, you’re really handsome."

"Just handsome?"

Poppy didn’t respond, embracing her phone and continuing to admire, zooming in and in.

Completely ignoring the person involved in front of her.

Declan wanted to say something when he noticed she had fallen asleep on the couch with her phone.

Heart really big.

He didn’t bother with the shirt Poppy had unbuttoned, letting his chest remain exposed, calmly watching Poppy in the night.

Since, even when drunk, she called his name.

Since she thought Sean Lynch was a bad man.

Why, after breaking up with him, choose to marry that man anyway.

Moments later.

Declan bent over and picked up Poppy from the couch, noting she weighed a lot less than she did a few years ago.

In his embrace, Poppy found a more comfortable position, nuzzling against his skin.

Her soft face pressed against his chest, listening to his heartbeat.

She had been married.

And divorced, had a child.

Now she wasn’t doing well.

All this was once a part of his plans, never daring to confess it all aloud.

But now, treated casually by another man.

Declan chuckled bitterly.

He didn’t want to admit it, but he knew full well.

He was jealous of it all, of that man.

The flames of jealousy threatened to burn away his last bit of reason.

He should hate her.

But every time he saw her, that hatred turned into helplessness, into an even darker desire.

Lucky she was divorced.

Otherwise, what he once yearned for would have been someone else’s wife.