He Wouldn't Claim Me — Another Man Did-Chapter 85 - 78: Appellation

Shane Sterling came up to the flybridge.

Annabelle Leighton had developed muscle memory when it came to not being a third wheel. The moment Shane Sterling appeared, she automatically got up and left, taking care not to get in their way in the slightest.

The sea breeze whipped across the deck, leaving just the two of them.

Shane Sterling had already dried himself off, but he was still only wearing a pair of swimming trunks. Up close, his lean, muscular physique was even more thirst-inducing.

He sat down next to Isla Prescott, asking eagerly like a child fishing for praise, "Did you see?"

He was asking about his surfing.

But what Isla Prescott saw was more than just the surfing.

"I did."

As she spoke, she turned her head and kissed Shane Sterling on the cheek.

It was rare for Isla Prescott to take the initiative, and the gesture made Shane Sterling’s spirits soar.

"Ha, you were impressed by how handsome I was, weren’t you?" he said smugly. "If I’d known you’d be this forward, I would’ve brought you to the beach to watch me surf a long time ago."

"It wasn’t because of that," Isla Prescott said.

"If not the surfing, then what?"

"Because I saw Young Mr. Shaw firmly rejecting temptation."

Hearing this, Shane Sterling realized Isla Prescott had seen the photographer ask for his contact information.

"Isn’t rejecting temptation just basic boyfriend 101? That’s worthy of a reward?" Shane Sterling raised an eyebrow. "In that case, you owe me a lot of rewards."

"What? Do people ask for your contact information often?"

"Of course. With a face as handsome as mine, one that exceeds normal human parameters, where am I not the center of attention?"

His face was just one thing; add his family background and wealth, and it was a royal flush.

There were plenty of women in this world looking to take a shortcut. As long as a man had money or power, even if he was short, fat, and ugly, or old enough to be their grandfather, they could grit their teeth and swallow it. To say nothing of a young, handsome man like Shane Sterling.

Isla Prescott shot him a sidelong glance. "Do you know the one thing that detracts most from your good looks?"

"What?"

"That mouth of yours."

"Can’t just throw it away, though." Shane Sterling lowered his head and captured her lips with his, teasing and caressing them until Isla Prescott was weak all over. "This mouth is for kissing you, for pleasing you. And it looks like you like it very much, don’t you?"

’I can’t argue with that. I really do like it a lot.’

That night, there was a fireworks show on the beach.

Everyone gathered around a bonfire for a barbecue, drinking and waiting for the fireworks to begin.

Everyone had been amazed by Shane Sterling’s surfing skills during the day, so now they all crowded around him, discussing how to surf at his level. Isla Prescott, on the other hand, was pushed to the side.

But she didn’t mind at all. She listened to the waves by herself, sipped her cocktail, and glanced at Shane Sterling from time to time.

Shane Sterling was wearing a white T-shirt, leaning back in his chair. He chatted with people while casually fiddling with the beer can in his hand, looking relaxed and composed.

Even though Isla Prescott wasn’t part of the conversation, his gaze would drift to her from time to time. Whenever their eyes met, they couldn’t help but smile.

After a while, Shane Sterling’s phone rang.

He stood up, phone in hand, and mouthed to Isla Prescott from across the way, "I’m taking a call."

Isla Prescott nodded.

It was unclear who called. Shane Sterling took the call for two or three minutes. After hanging up, before he could even turn around, he was stopped by a woman in a long, floral dress.

Isla Prescott thought to herself, ’He really wasn’t bragging. He attracts a lot of women.’

Just as that thought crossed her mind, someone approached her as well.

"Hey, miss. Care to have a drink with me?"

Isla Prescott turned her head and saw a man in a Hawaiian shirt who had walked up to her at some point.

The man was dapper but sleazy, his hair so slicked back a fly would slip if it landed on it. He was holding two glasses of a translucent pink liquor and smiling at Isla Prescott.

"No, thank you," Isla Prescott refused flatly.

The man persisted relentlessly. "Come on, just one drink. Look, the color is as pretty as you are, and it tastes different from that plain cocktail you’re having."

"How is it different?" Shane Sterling had come over. He threw an arm around Isla Prescott, his gaze direct and dangerous. "Did you spike it?"

The man in the Hawaiian shirt immediately panicked. "Wh-What? How could I?"

"Then drink it yourself."

"Fine, I’ll drink it." The man in the Hawaiian shirt drank the one in his left hand.

Shane Sterling jutted his chin toward the other glass. "All of it."

"Why should I listen to you—"

Before he could finish, Shane Sterling moved swiftly, snatching the drink and forcing it down the man’s throat.

The man in the Hawaiian shirt choked, his face turning bright red.

Isla Prescott was startled, too.

The people nearby noticed the commotion and came running over. The man in the Hawaiian shirt had been put in his place but didn’t complain; instead, he ran off looking guilty. Clearly, there had been something wrong with that drink.

"What’s wrong? What happened?" Annabelle Leighton and the others asked, looking at the glass that had fallen onto the sand.

"It’s nothing, just a pest." Shane Sterling casually dismissed everyone’s concern, then turned to Isla Prescott and asked softly, "Were you scared?"

Isla Prescott shook her head.

’I’m fine. It’s just that he’s been so gentle around me for so long that I’d almost forgotten he was the same Young Mr. Shaw who could shove a man’s head into a fish tank with his bare hands.’

"If you weren’t scared, why do you look so dazed?"

"I’m dazed by how cool you were," said Isla Prescott.

He laughed and stroked her head, a hint of jealousy rising again. "There are too many pests in this world. I really want to hide you away."

"Hide me where?"

"In my arms."

They looked at each other, their gazes meeting gently in the air. Both of their hearts skipped a beat as an amorous atmosphere swelled around them.

Everything around them instantly blurred into the background. All they could hear was the sound of each other’s breathing.

"Do we absolutely have to watch these fireworks?" Shane Sterling asked.

"I want to watch them." Isla Prescott’s fingertips unconsciously caressed her glass. The ice inside had long since melted, and droplets of water rolled down the side, wetting her fingers. "But we don’t necessarily have to watch them from here."

"Then let’s go," he said, his voice low and raspy. "They might look better from the bed."

Shane Sterling took Isla Prescott’s hand. She hopped off the barstool, and they ran across the beach, leaving the laughter of their friends and the flashing neon sign of the bar behind them.

They ran all the way back to their hotel room.

They burst through the door and slammed it shut.

Before Isla Prescott could even catch her breath, Shane Sterling had pinned her against the back of the door.

His tongue invaded, suckling on her lips domineeringly.

Isla Prescott’s heart pounded like a drum. Her body quickly went limp, and she had to wrap her arms around his neck to keep from sliding down.

Shane Sterling lifted her long skirt, picked her up, and walked to the floor-to-ceiling window as her slender legs wrapped around his waist.

BANG!

An explosive sound came from the beach.

But even a sound that loud couldn’t drown out their heavy panting.

The fireworks blossomed.

To give Isla Prescott a clearer view of the splendor in the sky, Shane Sterling turned her around and pressed her against the glass.

Isla Prescott pressed her palms against the floor-to-ceiling glass to maintain her balance, seeing countless colorful spots of light dance rhythmically before her eyes as her body burned along with the fiery display.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Several more fireworks exploded.

A cascade of brilliant colors rained down from the sky, a shower of stars illuminating the sensuous scene in the room...

--

Another night of entanglement followed.

The next day, they split off from the group and spent the entire day in the hotel catching up on sleep.

It was already dusk when Isla Prescott woke up.

A sliver of orange light peeked through a gap in the curtains, cutting a slanted line of twilight across the wall.

Her consciousness slowly returned. The frenzy of the previous night had become a dream, its fragmented remnants flashing through her mind.

Shane Sterling was no longer in bed. The sheets were wrinkled like an unfamiliar landscape.

She threw on some clothes, got out of bed, and pulled open the curtains. Her cheeks burned when she saw the winding handprints on the floor-to-ceiling glass.

"You’re awake." Shane Sterling walked out of the bathroom.

He had just freshened up and changed into a white shirt, looking as fresh and clean as a green bamboo shoot after a rain. He seemed like a completely different person from the man who had indulged his desires so freely last night.

"Mhm."

"You must be hungry. Get changed, and I’ll take you to get something to eat."

Isla Prescott was starving.

She took a quick shower in the bathroom, changed her clothes, and went downstairs with Shane Sterling.

As luck would have it, they ran right into Annabelle Leighton and the others at the elevator bank, just as the group was returning to their rooms after a day out.

"Don’t tell me you two have been sleeping this whole time?" Annabelle Leighton asked, surprised.

Shane Sterling replied lightly, "We did. We slept all night and all day."

Annabelle Leighton gave a thumbs-up. "You two can really sleep!"

"You know it." Shane Sterling glanced at Isla Prescott. "No matter how much we sleep, it’s never enough."

Isla Prescott was speechless.

The two of them seemed to be having a very suggestive conversation, yet also a very innocent one.

The subtleties of language are truly something else.

Isla Prescott and Shane Sterling went to the first-floor restaurant. Just as they reached the entrance, a woman suddenly rushed out from the hallway, grabbed Shane Sterling’s arm, and called out urgently, "Sean!"

Ever since they had made their relationship official, the name "Sean" had faded from Isla Prescott’s vocabulary. She never expected to run into a woman here who would call Shane Sterling so intimately.

Isla Prescott and Shane Sterling turned their heads at the same time.

Standing behind Shane Sterling was a pretty woman dressed in a simple white dress and Mary Janes, her hair tied in a low ponytail. She had a gentle and quiet demeanor.

Isla Prescott recognized her at a glance. It was the same woman in the long, floral dress who had stopped Shane Sterling on the beach before the fireworks show yesterday.

She had originally thought it was just a random woman hitting on him, but now, hearing how this woman addressed Shane Sterling, she suddenly realized they actually knew each other.

The woman looked at Shane Sterling, her eyes welling with tears, and spoke rapidly, "Sean! My sister is missing!"