This woman really is stubborn.

Dirk Carter sighed to himself.

He went back to the meeting room and lay down.

Just as he was about to drift off, half-asleep, the wind outside suddenly howled louder, battering the windows so they rattled nonstop.

The cold gusts kept pouring in.

Dirk couldn't help but shiver.

This mountain air really was a few degrees colder than the county town.

He was just about to dive his head under the covers.

Suddenly, a bout of knocking came at the door.

"Deputy Magistrate Carter, are you asleep?"

It was Edith Walsh's voice.

Dirk froze, got up off the 'bed', went to the door, and as soon as he cracked it open, an icy blast shoved its way in. Edith stood in the doorway in just a sweater—she must've been waiting out there a while, her lips were even pale.

"Deputy Walsh, come inside."

Dirk hurried her in out of the cold.

Once Edith was through, Dirk quickly shut the door—the chill eased a little, but their hands and feet were still freezing.

"Deputy Walsh, is something wrong?"

Dirk noticed Edith's hesitant, about-to-speak expression and couldn't help but ask.

Edith moved her lips and said, "Deputy Magistrate Carter, I heard you know Chinese medicine?"

"A bit,"

Dirk replied.

Edith pointed at her foot, saying, "I twisted my ankle climbing the mountain. Could you… could you take a look? It hurts…"

This woman really was a piece of work—earlier she refused help, now in this freezing weather she suddenly wanted to get checked out.

Dirk couldn't bring himself to say no.

He pulled over a chair and said, "Sit down, I'll have a look."

Edith sat down bashfully.

Dirk took the seat facing her, motioned for her to put her foot on his thigh. Just as he started his exam, his hand brushed her jeans.

Instinctively, he shivered.

He asked, "Why are your pants wet?"

"Uh…"

Edith hadn't even answered yet.

Dirk reached for her sweater.

Sure enough, the whole thing was soaked through.

"Deputy Walsh, you can't go on like this. Did you bring any clothes to change into? I'll go get them for you."

Dirk stood up as he spoke.

Edith shook her head and, eyes brimming with tears, choked out, "I was in such a rush, I didn't expect anything like this to happen. I didn't pack anything."

Easy to imagine,

a woman whose career had always been in the city, accustomed to comfort, divorced not long ago and now facing all this—her breaking down was only natural.

But in this cold weather,

wearing soaked clothes, she was bound to get sick.

Thinking of that,

Dirk said, "Deputy Walsh, you really need to get out of those wet clothes, or else…"

He hadn't even finished the sentence.

Edith stood up suddenly,

clearly intending to leave.

Dirk, flustered, grabbed her hand. She cast him a dazed glance before collapsing, limp as mud, into his arms. Luckily, Dirk was ready and caught her directly.

He touched her forehead.

It was burning hot, almost frightening.

No time to think about it,

he let her fall against his chest, slipped her out of her wet sweater, scooped her up, and laid her down on his own bed.

Bare-chested now, she lay on the 'bed', mumbling under her breath.

Dirk bit his lip and slid a hand under her bra.

Even the bra was soaked through—leaving it would only make things worse.

"Deputy Walsh, I'm really sorry, but this is for your own good. I hope you won't be angry when you wake up."

Dirk muttered the words as he reached under her back, expertly unclasped her bra.

Freed from restraint, two soft, bouncy, pale breasts popped out, making Dirk suck in a sharp breath.

Even though she was in her thirties, the two "grapes" at the center were surprisingly pink, with an adorable blush surrounding them—girlish, impossible to believe at her age.

No time to linger,

Dirk undid her waistband.

Somewhere in her fever haze, Edith seemed to sense someone undressing her; she even raised her hips, letting Dirk slide her straight-cut pants right off.

Her thighs were white and smooth,

without a trace of extra flesh.

Between them, that black pair of panties—through the thin cloth, a dense forest peered through in shadowy detail.

Dirk didn't hesitate,

all at once,

he stripped her last covering away.

No time for a proper look, he rifled through his bag, found a dry towel, and started wiping her down from the neck, slowly, carefully.

It was impossible to avoid skin-to-skin contact.

Confronted with her naked body, Dirk couldn't help but feel an ache in his chest—but he knew not to take advantage of her. When he reached between her legs, he gently parted her thighs; right in front of him, a butterfly-shaped cleft appeared.

He'd thought time would've darkened those butterfly wings, but they were still so tender,

even now both were soft and pink.

He finished with the towel and was just about to cover her with a blanket—

Suddenly,

the dazed Edith reached out, hooked his neck, pleading and mumbling, "Philip, please don't leave me, don't leave me, am I really so much worse than her? Am I worth nothing at all to you?"

She was out of her mind with fever,

mistaking him for her ex-husband.

Dirk tried to peel her hand from his neck,

but Edith only clung tighter.

Pouting, she leaned in and tried to kiss Dirk's face.

He dodged a couple times.

Edith whimpered, on the verge of tears, voice trembling: "Philip, you won't even kiss me? Am I really that much of a failure? If you like slutty women, I can be really slutty—I mean it, I can be so slutty…"

She kept repeating it, over and over.

Tears streamed down her cheeks.

Dirk saw her like this and felt his heart twist. "No, you're not a failure at all, you're just sick right now. You need to rest."

"I don't want rest, I want you, I want you to kiss me—kiss me and I'll sleep, please? Please, I'm begging you."

That pleading look again,

and Dirk's heart softened in an instant.

He figured, she was delirious anyway—if a kiss would help her sleep, it'd give him a break, too.

He swallowed hard. "Alright, I'll kiss you once, but after that, you sleep, okay?"

"Mm!"

At that, Edith's face lit up and she puckered her lips, eyes squeezed tight in anticipation.

Dirk called on every god he knew and pressed his mouth to hers.

He figured a quick peck would do, but the moment their lips met, Edith grabbed him, burned hot, tongue darting in eagerly, teasing, sucking, her throat humming with pleasure.

Deadly.

This woman's tongue work was something else.

Dirk's mind started to wander all sorts of places, too.

Their fervent kiss lasted five whole minutes, and when Edith finally let go, Dirk's lips were tingling numb.

And yet, it was something worth savoring.

He thought that would settle it,

but it didn't.

Edith lay there, naked, legs spread wide, licking her lips as she stared at Dirk, whispering, "Honey, will you give it to me? I want you, I want you—please, will you give it to me?"

"You need to rest,"

Dirk managed, his own desires hard to rein in,

but he knew she was feverish and delirious.

He tried to cover her up,

but she kicked the blanket off at once.

She moaned, "Is it because I'm not slutty enough for you? I can be so slutty—I learned all these positions online, I… I can show you, I know how to pleasure myself, see? Look, I can do it…"

With that,

her long fingers slid down between her legs,

softly stroking the butterfly.

After a few moments of teasing,

glistening dew began to appear—a sure sign that desire had taken over.

It was lethal.

Dirk swallowed again.

The sight was pure sin.

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