Psycho villain I Raised Wants to Marry Me-Chapter299 – So tired…

Psycho villain I Raised Wants to Marry Me-Chapter299 – So tired…

Footsteps sounded behind her.
She quietly set everything back just as a large hand wrapped around her waist from behind, pulling her into a firm embrace.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming back?” Atticus murmured.
“I just got back,” she replied lightly. “I wanted to help.”
He smiled, nuzzling her cheek. “I’ve been waiting for you for so long…”
His arms tightened around her.
Feeling his slightly uneven breathing, Clarissa squeezed his fingers gently. “I saw a lot of packages in the living room,” she said. “Let’s unpack them together.”
Her voice instantly eased the tension in his chest.
“Okay,” he said without hesitation.
The spacious living room was now filled with neatly wrapped boxes—each one waiting to be opened.
Clarissa sat cross-legged on the plush carpet, unpacking the items one by one, almost like she was dividing up stolen treasure.
She wasn’t sure why that thought suddenly crossed her mind, but it made her laugh softly.
Atticus, who had been following behind her and tidying as she went, heard the sound and leaned closer. In her arms was a royal tiara set with deep green emeralds.
“You like this one?” he asked.
“It’s fine,” Clarissa said thoughtfully. “But it’s way too extravagant. I’ll probably never have a chance to wear something like this. It’s more of a collector’s piece.” She tilted it slightly, admiring the craftsmanship. “Still, it has great value. It’ll definitely appreciate over time.”
She looked around at the unopened boxes and chuckled again.
“Opening these gifts feels like splitting up spoils after a heist. It’s kind of funny. By the way… how many things did you actually bid on?”
“I don’t remember,” Atticus replied casually.
When he noticed she’d stopped moving, he frowned slightly. “Why aren’t you opening the rest? Are you tired?” He glanced toward another stack. “That batch should all be everyday jewelry. I’ll bring it over.”
He was about to stand when Clarissa grabbed his sleeve.
“No… no,” she said quietly. “I’m a little tired.”
She carefully set the jewelry aside, then reached both arms toward him.
“I’m tired.”
Atticus broke into a grin and stepped forward, scooping her up without hesitation.
Clarissa relaxed against his chest, comfortable and lazy. “There’s too much stuff. It won’t all fit in my place…”
“Then leave some elsewhere.”
“Aren’t you selling your old house?”
“That building is mine,” he replied. “I still have things there. You can put whatever you don’t want there too. I’ll have it renovated.”
Clarissa froze and looked up at him sharply.
“Wait. Don’t tell me this place is yours too.”
Under her stare, Atticus hesitated for a beat—then nodded. “Yes…”
Her lips twitched violently before she punched his chest. “Atticus!”
She’d spent over thirty million buying this place—only to find out she’d bought her own man’s property with her own money.
Atticus glanced down at her flushed cheeks and slightly pursed red lips. His eyes darkened. He lowered his head and kissed her.
Before Clarissa could scold him properly, he pressed her down onto the sofa, stealing her breath with his kiss. She tried to push him away, but he gently pinned her wrists above her head, his burning lips trailing along the back of her neck.
“Be good,” he murmured hoarsely, sweeping everything off the sofa onto the floor, “and I’ll transfer everything into your name later…”
Clarissa collapsed weakly against the cushions, breathless, his body heat pressing into her back.
At some point, clothes were discarded and forgotten. The room grew warmer, fingers entwining tightly, desire tangling them together until time lost all meaning.
By the time Clarissa finally gave out, she was completely spent, slumped bonelessly in his arms. Their breathing was still ragged; even with the air conditioning running, her body was drenched in sweat, as though she’d just been pulled from water.
She closed her eyes, taking a long moment to recover. Feeling his weight still hovering over her, she shoved him weakly.
“Get up already… you’re heavy.”
Atticus sighed, clearly reluctant, even tempted to start again. But he knew better. He shifted and lifted her effortlessly.
“Let me help you clean up.”
Before she could protest, he carried her into the bathroom.
Afterward, he settled her into bed. Clarissa fell asleep the instant her head touched the pillow.
Atticus watched her peaceful sleeping face, satisfaction flickering briefly in his eyes. He leaned down and brushed his cheek against hers, then sat on the edge of the bed, watching her for a long time, as though he could never get enough.
But slowly, the smile faded, replaced by something darker.
How long could this life last?
He knew Clarissa. She was someone who would eventually want marriage. Family. Truth. He would have to face her world one day—and when that happened, everything he was hiding would come to light.
Clarissa, he thought bitterly, I know this happiness is an illusion.
To be able to love her properly one more time—no matter the ending—was already more than he deserved. And yet, greed crept in.
He wanted everything. He wanted this life forever.
Atticus brushed his fingers lightly over her cheek, repeating those thoughts silently. If she ever remembered the past, she would surely hate him just as much as before.
Taking a deep breath, he withdrew his hand, tucked the blanket around her, and quietly left the room.
He didn’t know that the moment the door closed, Clarissa’s eyes slowly opened.
She stared at the door and sighed softly, then turned onto her side. Exhaustion weighed heavily on her, yet sleep refused to come. Her gaze drifted to the withered crabapple blossom on the bedside table.
Eventually, drowsiness overtook her, and she slipped into real sleep.
She didn’t sleep long—only an hour or two. Hunger woke her, but she was too tired to move, struggling weakly beneath the covers.
Then the door opened.
“Clarissa…”
Atticus’s voice was gentle. He leaned down, kissed her cheek, and whispered,
“Get up and eat something.”
She slowly opened her eyes. Before her was his strikingly handsome face. In just two short years, the boyishness had faded, replaced by the calm allure of a mature man.
Clarissa reached out toward him, her voice soft and hazy with sleep.
“So tired…”
He scooped her up and carried her straight into the living room.
Clarissa looked at the beautifully arranged dishes on the table and sighed inwardly. Whenever she was with him, she grew lazy—so lazy she didn’t even want to walk.
“I didn’t know what you’d feel like eating,” Atticus said, setting her down, “so I made a bit of everything. There’s still some sweet soup simmering—we can have it later.”
He had barely lowered his head when he felt something soft brush his cheek.
Clarissa leaned over and kissed him lightly, smiling. “Thank you for your hard work, Atticus…”
Atticus froze.
While he was still stunned, Clarissa calmly picked up a piece of meat and took a bite. The familiar taste made her eyes soften, and she couldn’t help eating a few more mouthfuls.
Seeing him staring at her, she laughed. “Atticus, stop looking at me. Eat.”
He took a quiet breath and forced himself to look away, cursing his own lack of self-control. One kiss from her was all it took to throw him off balance.
Clarissa reached over and put food onto his plate. “You should eat more too.”
She stopped when she was about eighty percent full, propping her chin in her hand and watching him eat. His manners weren’t particularly refined, but somehow, because it was him, everything he did looked good.
Sensing her gaze, Atticus glanced up. “Why are you staring at me?”
“Because my Atticus is handsome.”
He set his utensils down and suddenly lifted her again.
Clarissa gasped, instinctively wrapping her arms around his neck. “Atticus—”
“Clarissa,” he said lowly, eyes burning, “do you realize you’ve been seducing me from the very beginning?”
She let out an awkward little laugh. “I… um… let’s finish eating first, okay? We can talk after.”
“But I want to eat you first.”
With that, he carried her straight toward the table.
Clarissa panicked, clutching his shirt as her legs wrapped tightly around his waist. “No—no! It’ll make a mess, and then we’ll have to clean everything up!”
Seeing her pale expression, Atticus relented. He’d only meant to scare her anyway—she always had him wrapped around her finger, and he needed at least a little revenge.
He leaned down and kissed her cheek, then her lips, deliberately smearing the grease from his mouth onto hers.
Clarissa punched him without hesitation. “Atticus!”
He grinned smugly and finally set her down.
Still flustered, Clarissa wiped her face and stood up quickly. “I’ll make you some tea.” She turned and fled back into the kitchen.
When she returned, she set the teapot on the table and poured herself a cup.
She’d barely finished half of it when the food was gone. She refilled his cup. “The temperature’s just right.”
Atticus took a sip. Her tea-making skills had clearly improved over the years—light, fragrant, and perfectly warm.
“Another cup,” he said.
Clarissa smiled and poured again.
Time slipped by quietly in that gentle, domestic calm.
That night, they lay together in bed, Clarissa curled into Atticus’s arms, their warmth and breathing slowly syncing.
That was when Atticus noticed the withered crabapple blossom on the bedside table.
He picked it up and studied it. “You… kept this?”
“Yes.” Clarissa nodded. “It’s beautiful. It’s a shame it’s already withered. I originally wanted to dry it and display it, but then I thought… maybe it’s better to let it fade naturally.”
A complicated expression crossed Atticus’s face. He stared at the flower in his hand and murmured,
“Beauty that’s forced to stay never truly belongs to you.”
Clarissa’s body stiffened. “Atticus?”
He kissed her forehead softly. “Sleep.”
Gently, he guided her down, tucked the blanket around her, and pulled her into a careful, protective embrace.
Nestled against his chest, Clarissa closed her eyes. Exhaustion finally caught up with her, and this time she fell asleep quickly.
Atticus tightened his arms around the woman sleeping peacefully against him, holding her close.
“Clarissa… Clarissa…”
He repeated her name over and over in his heart, eyes closing as he sank into the woman’s soft warmth and familiar scent. Sleep came easily, deep and peaceful. They both slept unusually well—and woke up late the next morning.
Clarissa lay lazily against his chest and murmured, “Atticus… are you going to work today?”
He squinted, half-awake. “Mm…”
Clarissa suddenly sat up and glanced at the wall clock. “You’re already seriously late.”
“It’s fine…” he replied indifferently.
She slapped him without mercy. “Get up! You’re a doctor now—you have to be responsible!”
“Clarissa, you’re so cruel,” Atticus complained, raking a hand through his slightly messy hair, his voice low and lazy. “I just got back, and you’re already kicking me out to work…”
Clarissa got out of bed and pulled the curtains open.
Then she turned around—and nearly got a nosebleed.
Atticus, still drowsy, slowly sat up. The blanket slid from his chest to his waist, revealing sharply defined abs and smooth, perfect lines.
How could someone look this dangerous just getting out of bed?

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Chapter299 – So tired…