Taming the Arrogant CEO

A soft, warm sensation pressed against his aching head, creating a faint illusion of comfort. The silky smoothness in his hand reminded him of a woman's skin. Instantly, his mind flashed to Claire—specifically, the memory of her in that fitted, pink skirt suit, the one that outlined her curves in a way that had surprised him. Beautiful, undeniably so, but the thought of others seeing her like that irritated him. She was his wife, after all, and her beauty should be for his eyes alone. Besides, that skirt was far too short.

Suddenly, something smacked against his face with a crisp slap.

His eyes snapped open, initially catching sight of a small, red button, then shifting upwards to find a partially open neckline. And above that—Lucas's dark eyes widened as he instinctively reached out, his hand moving up to grasp the soft skin of her cheek, frustration evident. "Claire, are you trying to get yourself killed? Why is my face buried in your chest again?" he growled, the irritation evident in his voice. *No wonder that felt soft,* he thought.

Still half-asleep, Claire barely registered his outburst, thinking it was just a distant noise, maybe thunder. In response, she unconsciously held him tighter, using him as her warm, comforting pillow.

Lucas's frustration only grew as her delicate scent filled his senses. *This woman!* he thought, nearly losing control. Was she purposefully trying to suffocate him with her chest? If so, he'd have to make sure she felt his irritation.

He tightened his hold on her cheek. Sure enough—

"Ouch!" Claire mumbled, her face scrunching in pain, though her eyes remained stubbornly closed.

"So you do feel pain?" Lucas retorted, his tone half-joking. "And did you even look at the time? You're still lying in bed like it's early morning!" Though he actually had no idea what time it was, the sunlight in the room suggested it wasn't exactly dawn anymore.

Claire blinked, her eyes slowly opening. When she realized their position, she froze, her face going blank with shock. *She was clinging to him?* Her mouth dropped open as the events of last night rushed back to her, and she swatted her forehead in disbelief. *She remembered him holding her when she fell asleep, but how did she end up wrapped around him like this?* And, oh god, his head was on her chest, her leg draped over his waist, and her other leg… wedged between his!

"Have you stared enough?" he asked, raising an eyebrow, clearly irritated. "If so, please let go. You're making it impossible for me to breathe." Though he barely showed it, his body was at odds with his words, reacting all too eagerly to her touch. *Damn it!* he thought as a surge of heat took over him. *Could this be a fever again?*

"Mr. Zeller…" Claire's voice softened as she placed a hand on his forehead. Her face immediately grew concerned. "What? Your fever is back!" she exclaimed. "You're even warmer than last night!"

"Fever? What fever?" he mumbled, his confusion evident.

"Last night you were burning up. I gave you some fever medicine, and it went down. But now, it seems worse than before."

*Last night, really?* That didn't sound right—he was usually in excellent health. Although, thinking back, a prolonged cold shower after drinking heavily could explain it.

Still, the feel of her hand against his forehead, her gentle concern... It made him wonder if perhaps, despite everything, he'd welcomed the chance to be cared for—at least, just this once.