His Belated Love for the Abandoned Ex-Wife Chapter 309: A Feverish Night

Iris had brought up the thermometer. "You should check your temperature," she said, reaching out to hand it to him. Just as she was about to pull her hand back, Julian suddenly caught her palm.

His large hand closed firmly over the back of hers.

Her heart gave a nervous jump. Before she could react, he tugged—hard.

Iris lost her balance and tumbled right into his arms.

Her pulse was racing now, wild and fluttery. She tensed all over, her breathing turning uneven and shallow.

Julian leaned across her and switched off the bedside lamp.

The room plunged into darkness.

Iris' chest rose and fell heavily beneath him. He held her down, his weight pressing her into the mattress. Their breaths grew ragged in the quiet, and the air between them thickened with heat.

Slowly, Julian moved his hands to her wrists and guided them above her head, pinning them gently against the pillow. She was trapped, motionless.

"What are you doing?" Her voice came out soft, unsteady—barely a whisper.

Even as she asked, she knew exactly what he wanted.

Julian buried his face in the curve of her neck. His warm breath fanned across her skin, sending delicate shivers rippling through her. Her body went pliant and warm beneath his.

His voice was low, rough as if unused for years. "I'm not feverish," he murmured, his breathing heavy. "I just... can't sleep. It's unbearable."

Iris' cheeks burned. Though she was no inexperienced girl, she still felt that familiar flutter of shyness, that rush of nerves—everything felt sudden and unsettling.

Maybe it was the tension, the not knowing what to say, that made her blurt out, "Where does it hurt?"

The moment the words left her mouth, she wished she could vanish.

Julian didn't answer. He stayed quiet for a long moment,

just lying there against her.

But it was clear that simply holding her wasn't enough to ease whatever was driving him.

He shifted closer, his lips brushing her ear. "Can you help me with it?"

Help him?

A faint bitterness stirred inside her.

Why did that sound so... transactional?

What did he think she was—some kind of convenience?

It didn't feel good to hear, but to his credit, Julian didn't push further. He didn't even try to kiss her.

When Iris didn't reply after a while, he added quietly, "I'll use protection."

He even had condoms ready. So this wasn't some impulsive moment—he'd planned for it.

Gathering her courage, Iris whispered back, "What if I say no?"

Julian let out a slow, heavy breath. "Then I'm sorry for bothering you." With that, he rolled off her and settled on the far side of the bed.

The moment his weight and warmth left her, a hollow feeling spread through Iris' chest.

She stared into the dark, her heart still pounding hard against her ribs. It took a long time for the rhythm to steady.

The room grew warm and close. Both of them breathed deeply, the sound loud in the stillness.

They lay there, together yet apart.

Iris didn't get up to leave. After some time, Julian reached over and gently drew the light blanket over her.

Her mind was a tangle of thoughts, but in the end, reason lost out to the pull of want. She turned onto her side and slowly crept toward him.

Julian went still.

Her hand came up to touch his cheek. Then she leaned in and kissed his lips.

His breathing hitched. One hand cradled the back of her head, the other slid around her slender waist, and he kissed her back—deeply, hungrily.

Though Iris wasn't fragile, after two intense and drawn-out rounds, she truly had nothing left.

And Julian, in bed, wasn't quite as gentle or as careful with her as he once had been.

Around 4 a.m., while he was in the bathroom cleaning up, she slipped away.

The night felt endless. If she stayed, there'd likely be a third time... a fourth...

The next day, a little past 9 in the morning,

Iris woke to find Harper already gone from the room.

When she got up to wash her face, she noticed the marks on her neck and body. Memories of the previous night rushed back, and her face flushed hot.

Her fall clothes didn't include any high necklines, so she let her hair down to cover the traces on her skin.

She stepped out into the hallway and paused by the railing, looking down. Harper sat quietly on the living room couch, absorbed in a picture book.

Seeing her daughter so content brought a sense of calm to Iris' restless heart. She turned and made her way toward the stairs.

Just as she passed Julian's room, his door opened.

Their eyes met.

Iris' heart stuttered. Vivid flashes of the night's intimacy replayed in her mind, heating her cheeks all over again.

He was dressed in simple, elegant gray casual wear, tall and straight-postured. With those striking, penetrating eyes, he watched her with a gaze that was deep and impossible to read.

It left her thoughts thoroughly scattered.

Even though they shared a child, things between them now were distant, complicated. What happened last night made it hard to look at him with anything like ease.

Flustered, she broke eye contact. Fidgeting with the hem of her shirt, she hurried past his door without a word and made her way downstairs.

Julian's eyes followed her all the way down. A shadow of something unreadable—maybe gloom—flickered across his expression. He closed his door quietly and descended the steps with measured calm.

Hearing the footsteps, Harper glanced up from her book, her face brightening with an innocent smile. "Good morning, Mommy."

Iris took a seat beside her. "Morning, sweetheart. Did you have breakfast?"

"Yep! The chef made me really yummy pancakes."

Iris smiled softly and ruffled her hair.

Another set of footsteps sounded on the stairs. Harper looked up again. "Good morning, Daddy."