Her Husband Claims He Has No Function For Love Yet His Pulse Races Around Her Chapter 05

Her Husband Claims He Has No Function For Love Yet His Pulse Races Around Her Chapter 05

Rowan was downright bizarre today. 

When I got home, even Freya messaged me: [Be careful. Your husband might be possessed by an alien.] 

I was just as confused. 

Rowan showered the second we got back. He came out with just a towel wrapped around his waist, hair dripping wet. 

He had a lean build. His muscle definition leaned toward what women found attractive–not bulky, but tight and cut. 

He always put on his pajamas before stepping out. 

This sudden move practically seduced me on the spot. I 

yanked my eyes away fast. 

The owner of that body noticed nothing. 

He paced back and forth right in front of me. Probably 

looking for his pajamas. 

Seriously? Testing my willpower like this? 

I swallowed hard and bumped my shower plans up early. 

Escaped into the bathroom. 

After my shower, I pulled the door open, shut it, then 

opened it again. 

Rowan was holding laundry, hanging pieces on the rack one 

by one. Every time he lifted his arms, the sharp lines of his 

waist and abs were on full display. 

How was he still not dressed! 

I clenched my teeth and forced out casually, “Why aren’t you 

wearing your pajamas? You’ll catch a cold.” 

“My hair’s still dripping.” 

Short and to the point. 

I couldn’t push it further, so I retreated back into the 

bathroom to blow–dry my hair. 

Opened the door again. Same view. 

“Want me to dry it for you?” 

“Oh. It’s mostly dry. But my pajamas got dirty. Just tossed them in the washer.” 

“…Fine.” 

I gave up entirely. Dove into the covers like a coward. 

Was Rowan trying to seduce me? 

If not, why hadn’t he gotten dressed even after the washer and dryer chimed? And why was he still pacing around the bedroom? 

But more than that, I was worried he’d actually get sick. 

Nearly six hours since we’d gotten home. It was cold at night. 

I looked at Rowan, standing there like a mannequin at the foot of the bed. 

“Rowan, aren’t your pajamas done?” 

“I forgot to add detergent for the first two cycles. It’s rewashing.” 

“…Then just get in bed. You’ll catch a cold.” 

“I still have things to do.” 

I stayed quiet for a beat, then grabbed a throw blanket and walked to the foot of the bed. I draped it over his shoulders. 

“Just wear something else for now. You really will get sick.” 

Rowan lifted his eyes, then took a step forward. Deliberate. 

I backed up on instinct. 

My foot slipped. I yanked the blanket and fell flat on my 

back. 

When I opened my eyes, Rowan was braced above me on his 

arms. 

The thin blanket draped over his head, cascading down 

around us, cocooning us in dim shadow. 

Our staggered breaths suddenly sounded so loud. 

I held my breath and whispered, “Sorry. That was an 

accident.” 

Rowan’s eyes were lowered. He didn’t say something. 

“Let’s get up first.” 

Unnerved, I tried to turn and crawl away. He caught my wrist 

and pinned me back down. 

The sheets bunched tighter beneath us. 

My mind flashed to the “forced love” in that post. My face 

heated uncontrollably. 

“Rowan…” 

Rowan leaned in closer. His breath scorched against my skin. 

Was this really it? The long–awaited moment? 

I bit my lower lip, tense and flustered, every nerve taut as 

the distance between us narrowed. 

Our lips were about to touch. 

Then Rowan went limp and collapsed against the side of my neck. 

I froze. Shoved the blanket off and called out, “Rowan? 

What’s wrong? Rowan?” 

His skin was burning. 

Still pressed close to him, I touched his forehead and 

confirmed. 

He was really sick this time. 

The weather’s been chilly at night, no wonder. Out on the balcony earlier, I’d seen the wind blowing his bangs around! 

I sighed and wriggled out from under him. 

I struggled to tuck him into the bed, then fetched fever 

medicine and fed it to him with warm water. 

“Feeling any better?” 

“Mm…” 

That sound was more of an unconscious whimper. 

Physical cooling was clearly still needed. 

There should still be cooling gel patches at home. In the 

living room. 

I pulled my hand back from his forehead. Turned to go. He 

grabbed me. 

“Don’t go…” 

“I’m just getting a cooling patch. Back real fast.” 

“Don’t… don’t leave me. Don’t abandon me, Audrey…” 

Rowan’s voice was weak. He kept repeating “don’t,” 

completely out of it. 

This was the first time I’d seen him sick since we met. 

I’d never imagined Rowan could be this… cute? 

I sat back down on the edge of the bed and softened my 

voice. 

“One minute, okay? I’ll be back in one minute.” 

“Don’t leave me.” 

Rowan’s brow furrowed. The arm around my waist tightened, 

like he was terrified I’d go. 

Helpless, I brushed the damp hair from his forehead and promised, “Okay. I won’t go.” 

His brow finally smoothed. 

A moment of quiet. Then Rowan mumbled something, thick and slurred. “Audrey.” 

“Yeah. I’m here.” 

“You still owe me… haven’t kissed me yet…” 

He really did sound like a little kid. 

My lips curved up without thinking. I coaxed, “How about 

this. After the kiss, give me one minute to go get the cooling patch. Deal?” 

The little kid hesitated, then pouted, “Okay.” 

“You’re sweet.” 

I bent down and pressed a kiss to his cheek.