The Contracted Ever After (Cordelia and Ronan)

Chapter 544

Cordelia couldn't help but feel a rush of triumphant glee as she noticed Ronan hadn't stirred from his

slumber. She continued to prod him gently.

"Are you done playing your little game?" Ronan's deep and clear voice suddenly broke the silence. His © 2024 Nôv/el/Dram/a.Org.

eyes were still closed.

Cordelia bristled slightly, "If you're awake, why pretend to be sleeping?"

"How else would you have your fun?" His tone was nonchalant but confident.

"But if you're awake..." Cordelia suddenly realized that she rarely dared to tease him when he was

awake.

"Are you afraid to play?" he asked, abruptly opening his eyes, which were like those of a wolf that could

instill terror. But at that moment, they overflowed with tenderness.

Scorched by his gaze once again, Cordelia dipped her head, nestling it against his chest while her

hand traced lazy circles on his abdomen.

Her touch was gentle, eliciting a ticklish sensation in Ronan. He was struggling to bear it. "Let's move

this elsewhere," he murmured.

"Where to?" Cordelia asked, lifting her doe-like eyes to meet Ronan's.

Her eyes were misty, brimming with moisture. At twenty-eight, she still possessed the innocence of a

child. That expression stirred something within Ronan, sending ripples through his heart. He took her

hand and guided it downward. "Here."

Cordelia's heart skipped, and her face flushed with heat. Her cheek rested against Ronan’s chest, and

her breathing grew heavier.

Ronan flipped over, pinning Cordelia beneath him.

After their lovemaking, Cordelia was thoroughly dazed, lying in a half-awake state on the bed.

Ronan, clad only in pants, made his way to the bathroom. Passing by the divan, he accidentally

knocked her bag, from which a vinyl record tumbled out.

Ronan picked it up to examine it. He was no aficionado of singers or bands, especially not some boy

band from overseas. He flipped the record over, glancing at Cordelia’s still-closed eyes, thinking, “Huh,

she's into these young lads.”

However, the label on the back of the record caught his attention. The price was marked in pounds,

and the store location was Baker Street — unmistakably London. It was not a domestic purchase. It

must have been a gift from Eason.

Despite his misgivings about her relationship with Eason, Ronan refrained from confronting her. He had

changed a lot compared to the past few years; he no longer erupted in anger or intimidated Cordelia as

he once did.

Ronan had become like a bird that startled at the slightest sound, carefully restraining any action that

might frighten Cordelia.

They say that the one who changes in a relationship does so not because they've truly changed but

because they accommodate you and are willing to adapt themselves to fit you better.

Ronan was a man of great refinement, but that didn't mean his heart was free of thorns. On the

contrary, it festered more deeply since he couldn't express his discontent.

He emerged from the bathroom and found Cordelia still asleep. He sat beside her on the bed, his

presence slowly rousing her.

Cordelia's eyes fluttered open to the sight of his bare torso, the air thick with masculine allure.

Cordelia supported her face with one hand, so Ronan playfully pinched her other cheek.

"Can you delay leaving for a few days?" she asked.

"Addicted to me, are you?"

"Not really. It's just that I might join a delegation next month, and I won't see Callum for a while. I don't

want him to leave so soon," Cordelia spoke softly.

"Hmm, seems I was flattering myself. Where's the delegation headed?"

"Well..." Cordelia hesitated, knowing that if she mentioned a trip to the UK, Ronan would surely object

and try to prevent her from going. He might’ve been wealthy and carefree, but Cordelia had to comply

with the school's arrangements. "The exact dates aren't set. I just want to spend more time with

Callum."

"That's rare, showing a bit of maternal conscience," Ronan commented.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Cordelia responded, noticing Ronan's expression. It seemed he

harbored some resentment from the years he had spent raising their child alone.