Chapter 75

Julian had been completely focused earlier while cleaning her body, his mind devoid of impure thoughts. But now, he was dangerously close to losing control. His gaze darkened, the heat in his chest spreading like wildfire. His throat was dry and burning; he swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing with the effort.

Then, as if the universe was testing his limits, Rosalie rolled over, kicking off the blanket. One long leg draped lazily over the edge, her smooth skin stark against the dark fabric. Rosalie’s legs were long, muscular, and unfairly enticing. It didn’t help that she wore only simple black cotton underwear—nothing fancy, nothing seductive—yet it still sent an unbearable wave of heat through him.

Forcing himself to look away, he grabbed a dress shirt from the wardrobe and slammed the door shut, his patience dangerously thin. Storming to the bed, he yanked Rosalie up, foregoing gentleness.

Rosalie awoke at his touch, her brows furrowing in protest. “Mmm, what are you doing?”

“Put it on.” His voice was strained, each word bitten out through clenched teeth.

But Rosalie remained unresponsive, her eyes shut, offering no cooperation.

“Damn it.” Cursing under his breath, Julian pulled the oversized shirt over her head, working quickly to button it before losing his self-control. It was a simple action, yet he was breaking a sweat by the time he finished.

He glared at her sleeping face, frustration radiating from him. Unable to contain himself, he pinched her cheek firmly. “Rosalie, you’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?” His voice was rougher now, lower, hoarse with something he didn’t want to acknowledge.

He regretted taking over Clara’s job. He should have let someone else handle this mess. Because right now, he was the one suffering.

With a final curse, Julian turned and strode to the bathroom. A full hour later, he emerged, his face still taut with tension. He cast one last glare at the sleeping troublemaker sprawled across his bed and slammed the door shut.