The Last Time I Cried Your Name novel Chapter 358

Petty was soaked, water dripping from her clothes and pooling at her feet before she even made it past the doorway.

She walked into the bedroom, which was ridiculously spacious, at least as big as two Misty Vale bedrooms put together.

Right in the middle, a king-size bed stood covered in deep, dark blue sheets. The color was so tranquil, just like the sea. She couldn’t help but think of everything that happened out on the water just now.

Her lips stung, swollen and red from his kisses, and she winced, sucking in a breath. Where he had bitten her, it hurt and tingled all at once.

Footsteps echoed up the stairs. Slow, steady, completely unhurried.

Franco appeared, also dripping wet. He glanced up and caught sight of her slender figure standing so still in the doorway. She seemed lost in her thoughts.

For a second, the memory in his mind and this moment overlapped. His gaze sharpened, and he picked up his pace.

Petty heard his footsteps coming closer. The memory of what happened on the sea flashed through her mind and made her angry all over again. She stormed into the bathroom, slammed the door, and locked it.

She peeled off her wet clothes and switched on the shower. Warm water poured over her, washing away the salt, but not the sting.

After a few minutes, she saw his tall shadow behind the frosted glass of the bathroom door. He was right outside.

“Open the door,” he said.

“I’m showering,” Petty replied, sounding bored. The water drowned out most of her voice.

Franco didn’t say anything else. He waited in silence. When the water finally shut off, he caught her mumbling quietly to herself.

“There’s no bathrobe in there,” he called, his voice low and steady. “Open up, I’ll hand it to you.”

Petty pursed her lips, irritation flashing in her eyes. Wasn’t it obvious? Of course she wanted it. But Franco wasn’t someone who spoke without a reason. There was always a hidden meaning in everything he said.

“If you want to make a deal, just say it.”

It took Franco a second to drag his eyes away from her. His jaw was tight, red veins starting to show in his dark eyes. He stepped forward, shoved the robe into her outstretched hand, then turned and walked out without looking back.

The moment she gripped the soft, white bathrobe, her heart skipped. Instinct told her to rush back and shut the door.

But to her surprise, she heard his footsteps, quick and unsteady, heading away.

She remembered the way he kissed her on the boat, the way he held her while steering, the feel of his body pressed hard against hers—unmistakable, impossible to ignore.

She had expected him to bargain over the bathrobe, to name his price. She was ready for it—so ready that if he had tried it, she would’ve slammed the bathroom door and stayed inside till her wet clothes dried, just to prove her point.