As he ca out, he saw Jasmine Yale half-reclined on the pillow, lazily unable to lift her eyelids.
A trace of milk lingered on her lips, and the half-empty glass of milk was placed on the bedside table.
His gaze unavoidably traveled downward, resting on the skin of her neck.
Sylvan Cheney walked over, bent down, and gave her lips a gentle peck.
Jasmine Yale lifted her head, wrapped her arms around his neck, her eyes burning bright: "Finished showering? Want to blow-dry your hair?"
Fresh from the shower, Sylvan Cheney was even more enticing, exuding an aura of cleanliness and restraint. She liked him this way, knowing he was never a man who did things carelessly.
"I wouldn’t dare ask a pregnant woman to do things." Sylvan Cheney curled his lips, looking at her.
Jasmine Yale laughed: "You’ve ordered around lots of tis, what’s one more ti? Who was it that got drunk and out of sorts, asking to bathe him and drag him back from the bar?"
"That was Kade Yuvan ddling, go talk to him about it."
"You said it yourself, so next ti this happens and Kade calls , I’m not going."
"There won’t be a next ti like that."
"You must have paid the bar a lot of money, didn’t you? Seriously." Jasmine Yale rolled her eyes at him, waving the notebook in her hand, "Go blow-dry your hair, I have questions for you later."
"Alright."
Jasmine Yale released him, watching as Sylvan Cheney obediently complied.
She still liked him this way, never shouting at her, never scolding her, always ready to discuss things peacefully.
The sound of the hairdryer started, and Jasmine Yale closed her eyes slightly.
It’s been a long ti since she slept in the sa bed with him; events from earlier this year were still vivid, yet seed to have separated by a century.
She sighed, opened her eyes, and lowered her gaze to continue taking notes.
After the hairdryer stopped, Sylvan Cheney probably went to the living room to tidy up.
Jasmine Yale’s thoughts were a bit scattered, not in the mood for work, so she simply scribbled Sylvan Cheney’s na on the paper.
Sylvan Cheney, Sylvan Cheney...
Over and over.
During her teenage crush, she loved writing his na in her small bedroom, chanting his na with her lips, her heart entirely filled with him.
In loving soone, one can truly beco entirely imrsed.
Perhaps too focused, too absorbed, when Sylvan ca over, she was completely unaware.
He watched her rest her head on her hand, looking entranced, unable to help but laugh lightly, ruffling her hair: "Is my na that fun to write?"
Jasmine Yale looked up, retorting, "Coming in without announcing yourself?"
"Didn’t want to wake you if you were asleep."
"I’m not a little pig," Jasmine Yale closed the draft paper, tossing it aside, "I’m not that sleepy."
"Mrs. Cheney, am I sleeping on the bed or the sofa tonight? Hmm?" Sylvan Cheney bent down, leaning close to her.
Their proximity was very close.
Sylvan Cheney could see the bright sheen in her eyes.
In the small pupils of Jasmine Yale, his reflection was all-consuming.
Jasmine blushed: "The sofa... can you fit?"
Sylvan Cheney curled his lips, moved close to her, his forehead touching hers, arms embracing her shoulders.
In the next second, his cool lips t hers in a kiss.
They kissed, lost in each other’s embrace.
Jasmine’s back rested against the pillow, arms encircling Sylvan Cheney’s waist.
His kiss was always like this, sotis domineering, sotis gentle, always irresistible.
She did not resist, letting Sylvan Cheney kiss her.
The scent of the man’s breath lingered at her nose, making her feel as if she was among clouds, intoxicating her.
As his kiss deepened, Jasmine Yale found it hard to resist, being pressed onto the bed.
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