All Chapters of Your Lips to Mine #2: The Billionaire's Secret Garden: Chapter 51 - Chapter 60

Sophia’s living room was bathed in the soft glow of a single lamp, casting long shadows that danced on the walls like whispers of desire. The air was thick with the scent of lavender from the candles she had lit earlier, a subtle yet intoxicating reminder of the evening’s intentions. Her couch, a plush haven of comfort, was the centerpiece of this intimate setting, and it was here that Alexander found himself, drawn to her like a moth to a flame. He sat beside her, his arm casually draped over the backrest, fingers just grazing the delicate skin of her neck. Sophia’s breath hitched as his touch sent a shiver down her spine, a sensation that both thrilled and terrified her. She turned her head slightly, meeting his gaze with eyes that were deep pools of vulnerability and longing. Alexander’s lips quirked into a smile, a silent promise of what was to come. Without a word, he leaned in, their faces inches apart, the tension between them palpable. Sophia’s heart pounded in her chest, a

The morning sunlight streamed through the window, bathing the small room in a warm, golden glow. I sat on the edge of the bed, clutching the blanket loosely around my waist as I tried to move my sore body. My shoulders ached, my back felt tight, and as I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror on the opposite wall, my cheeks burned. Marks. Everywhere. My skin was decorated with faint, reddish bruises and imprints from last night—Alexander's handiwork. Each one told a story, a moment of passion, and though the soreness was a stark reminder of our intimacy, it also made me feel a strange sense of pride. A memory of his touch lingered on my skin. I let out a small sigh and reached for the fresh shirt I had pulled from the dresser. Draping it over my lap, I took a moment to catch my breath before attempting to put it on. That’s when I heard the sound of the door opening. Startled, I froze, my heart leaping into my throat. I turned just in time to see Alexander stepping

The evening air was colder than usual as I locked the shop door behind me, my thoughts scattered. My body ached with fatigue, but my mind was restless. Something had felt wrong all day—a tension in the air that refused to lift no matter how much I tried to brush it off. Even my customers, usually chatty and warm, had seemed unusually reserved. I sighed and leaned against the glass door for a moment, staring out at the quiet street. The unease I felt had no clear source, but it was persistent, a nagging weight on my chest. The familiar scent of the tulips in my shop should have comforted me, but even that felt distant tonight. The buzz of my phone in my bag startled me, pulling me out of my thoughts. I fished it out, the screen lighting up with a text from Alexander: Hotel Royale. 8 PM. I frowned. The message was short, abrupt, and completely out of character for him. Alexander was many things—direct, yes—but he was never vague. My fingers hovered over the keyboard as I debat

As we carefully laid Alexander on the makeshift bed, I crouched beside him, my hand lingering on his arm. His breathing was shallow, but his gaze was steady, piercing through the haze of pain. He looked up at me and managed a faint smile, but it only made my chest tighten further. "Sophia," he rasped, his voice low but firm, "I’m okay. Really." I shook my head, biting my lip to hold back the tears that threatened to spill. How could he say that when he looked like this? Pale, weak, and in pain? The sight of the blood on his shirt alone was enough to send me spiraling. "Alexander, you’ve been shot," I said, my voice trembling despite my best efforts to stay calm. "You’re not okay. How can you even say that?" He reached for my hand, his fingers curling weakly around mine. The gesture was meant to comfort me, but it only made the lump in my throat grow. "I’ve been through worse," he said, his tone laced with an attempt at reassurance. "This... this is nothing." His words spar

The clock ticked away, each passing second stretching into what felt like an eternity. I sat at Alexander’s bedside, my fingers absently brushing over his knuckles. His skin was warmer than before, but the pallor of his face still sent chills down my spine. The worry clawed at my chest, refusing to let go, and I kept replaying Jill’s words in my head: the doctor was coming, and he would know what to do. Jill had been in and out of the house, making phone calls and pacing as she coordinated everything. I didn’t bother stopping her; I understood the urgency and trusted that she was doing everything she could. When she disappeared outside again, I didn’t think much of it. But this time, when the door opened, she returned with someone else. I heard the click of the door and the sound of footsteps. Turning toward the entryway, I saw a tall man stepping inside, carrying a leather doctor’s bag. His dark hair was neatly combed back, and his sharp, chiseled features were accentuated by a pa