She silently slid off the bed and crept to the door, opening it a sliver. Through the gap, she saw Kris Cooper in the living room, sitting on a chair with a wobbly leg. His feet were propped up on an overturned coffee table, and he was drinking red wine straight from the bottle, his handsome face etched with a gloomy expression.
The decorative painting on the door was already loose. As she opened it, the small, bent hook supporting the painting finally gave way and slipped out.
The small oil painting crashed to the ground with a BANG, startling Vera Wave.
When she looked up again, her eyes met Kris Cooper’s direct gaze.
"Um... you... you enjoy your drink. I just... ACHOO..."
This damned girl! Is she determined to drive me insane? I told her to sleep. Why is she messing around downstairs? Is she trying to catch a cold? I don’t know what I owed her in a past life to deserve such torment in this one.
Kicking aside the coffee table at his feet, he rose, bottle still in hand, and strode to the bedroom door. Seeing his approach, Vera was so frightened she backed away two steps.
"I... I’m sorry. I... I didn’t mean to bother you. I just... I’m a little..."
Kris Cooper extended the bottle to her.
I don’t cook, and I don’t have anything like ginger in the house. A little alcohol should warm her up.
Vera stared at the bottle. Then, steeling herself, she took it and had a small sip. Afraid he would get angry, she then tilted the bottle back and gulped down more.
She had barely taken two mouthfuls when he took the bottle away.
She climbed back into bed and burrowed under the covers. Sneaking a peek, she saw him reaching to untie the belt of his bathrobe.
He... he isn’t going to continue, is he?!
Vera’s heart tightened, and she swiftly averted her gaze, not daring to look again.
Behind her, the mattress dipped.
Realizing he had gotten into bed, she trembled all over but dared not move a muscle.
A hand reached for her and, in the next instant, pulled her close. Her back pressed against his chest, separated by the fabric of his bathrobe.
His chest was firm and warm; even through her own clothes, she could feel his heat.
"Turn around!" he commanded.
She gritted her teeth and turned over in his arms, already prepared for whatever he intended to do. Googlᴇ search novel⦿fire.net
"Place your hand on my chest."
She obeyed again. His hand reached out and grasped her calf.
Finally getting to it, is he?!
Vera closed her eyes in resignation. The next moment, he had pulled both her calves against his legs.
The skin of his legs felt warm against hers.
What... what kind of position is this?!
She was too nervous to even twitch, her mind racing with wild thoughts.
With a soft CLICK, the bedside lamp went out, plunging the room into darkness.
Then, his hand reached out again, gently pushing down the blanket that covered half her face. His hand then settled on her back and, with slight pressure, he pulled her fully against his chest.
He smelled faintly of wine—the intoxicating, lingering aroma of its fermentation. Her cheek was pressed against his skin. It was firm and smooth. She could clearly hear his heartbeat: strong, and a little fast.
A long, still silence followed.
Listening to his breathing from just above her head, Vera waited tensely, her own heart thumping like a trapped rabbit.
Her own hair tickled her nose, making it itch, and she instinctively rubbed its tip against the back of her hand.
From above, his voice suddenly broke the silence.
"If you move again, I’ll take you right now!"