After Titus Zane left the suite, Nicholas Croft closed the door, locking it, while his gaze remained fixed on Beatrice Hargrave’s face.
Walking back to the bed, he took off his coat, laying it on the bench at the foot of the bed, then sat beside her, gazing at her small sleeping face. His expression grew increasingly gentle, and he couldn’t help but lean down, placing his thin lips softly on Beatrice Hargrave’s lips for a gentle kiss.
Nicholas Croft swore he only intended a light kiss, but once he felt those tender lips, he couldn’t bear to pull away.
Her lips were soft and smooth, like jelly, carrying a unique girlish scent—so sweet. Her small face was also smooth and fair, resting in the palm of his hand with a tickling sensation that traveled directly to his heart.
In her sleep, with her breathing blocked, Beatrice Hargrave instinctively furrowed her brows, trying to avoid it—a soft complaint escaped her nostrils, sounding like it was coy. Nicholas Croft felt that tickling sensation in his heart even more intensely, so he kissed her lightly again. As he let go, he lifted a finger to unbutton his suit, followed by his shirt...
While placing his clothes on the bench at the foot of the bed, Nicholas Croft’s movents were gentle, worried he might awaken the sleeping girl.
Returning to the large bed once more, this ti, he directly lifted the quilt and lay down, supporting himself halfway before capturing the girl’s crystal-clear lips once again.
This kiss no longer held caution, his heated tongue tracing her contour. One large hand rested on Beatrice Hargrave’s waist, separated by silk fabric, kneading with a force neither too light nor too heavy. The vision escaping from the loose neckline of her robe further enticed the man’s gaze.
That night, holding her while he slept was already a struggle to endure his desire. Still, before this small face resembling Sophie Foster’s, he was without immunity.
"Mmm..." Even in deep sleep, Beatrice Hargrave would awaken from the stifling kiss, opening her eyes dazedly and not saying a word. The gentle-eyed man appeared excited.
"Awake?"
"Uncle Croft?" Beatrice Hargrave frowned in confusion. "Why are you here?"
Just waking up, her consciousness still drifted, her voice unaware the man beside her had already shed his clothing.
"Hmm, ca to find you," Nicholas Croft answered casually, gazing at the close-by small face that made his heart race. The freshly awoken girl’s fair cheeks sported a lovely pink, with lips previously caressed, glistening alluringly, like a ripe fruit waiting to be picked.
After pecking Beatrice Hargrave’s lips, Nicholas Croft promptly covered her, kissing gently...
A current coursed through her body, and Beatrice Hargrave moaned softly, murmuring, "Don’t..."
"Don’t what?" The man’s gentle lips kissed Beatrice Hargrave’s lip corners while asking softly, his low magnetic voice very alluring.
A long-lost sensation, one that would replay countless tis in dreams, overtook Beatrice Hargrave as she closed her eyes, lightly biting her lip.
Receiving no reply, Nicholas Croft spoke again. "Be good, tell uncle Croft, don’t what..."
"Don’t this, huh..."
"Ah..." Uncontrollably, Beatrice Hargrave gasped. Despite having experienced it countless tis, she remained very sensitive every ti he teased.
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