She nudged the man beside her, not even noticing that her oversized robe had fallen open.
The neckline slipped low, revealing a pale bra.
She'd worn her bridesmaid dress today, and to make sure her underwear didn't peek out, she'd just grabbed a cheap strapless bra off the sale rack. Predictably, cheap meant trouble-the size was all wrong, way too tight. She figured, "It's only for one day," and couldn't be bothered to return it.
Now, it only made things look even more suggestive.
By the tSylvia realized she was exposed, it was already too late.
Rupert narrowed his eyes, a cold bead of sweat running down his temple, burning hot against his flushed skin. His voice dropped an octave. "Sylvia." Rupert had never said her nso many times in a row. She froze, answering softly, "Yeah, Uncle Rupert, you—" Before Sylvia could finish, he leaned in, sweat dripping, and kissed her-right on her cherry-red lips.
The soft touch made everything feel painfully real.
Even as she struggled, he didn't let go. Instead, his hand slid up and down her waist, gentle and reassuring. Thank God-it was all just a dream.
Follow on NovᴇlEnglish.nᴇtAfter a moment, Sylvia's resistance faded, her body trembling like she'd been dropped into a scorching hot bath, fighting off Rupert's embrace.
Rupert's hand, which had been tugging at her robe's belt, suddenly stopped. He closed his dark eyes for a second, and when he opened them again, he carefully pulled her robe closed, covering her up.
"There's fresh pajamas in the closet. Go change into them," he said, voice tight.
"Okay." Freed from his arms, Sylvia scrambled off the bed and dashed for the walk-in closet. Rupert took a deep breath, trying to calm the heat churning in his gut, then got up as well.
Noticing broken glass by the nightstand, he cleaned it up before heading to the bathroom.
When Sylvia cout, she was rolling up her sleeves, grumbling under her breath. What did he eat growing up- protein shakes and basketballs? How could anyone get so tall? But the pajamas smelled faintly of lavender, and she had to admit, it was lovely.
Just then, Rupert cout of the bathroom. He stopped mid-towel, eyeing the pajamas she wore.
"Tfor bed," he said, finally.
"Alright. I'll wash and return your pajamas tomorrow. Good night, Uncle Rupert," Sylvia said, heading for the bedroom door.
Suddenly, a broad-shouldered figure blocked her path and gently shut the door again.
"Wantto carry you to bed?" he said, his voice lazy and teasing.
Sylvia pressed her lips together, fuming as she turned away.
How he compete with him? If to, she Chance the power even it out of bed.
Whatever. It's just sleep, and it's not the first time.
She flipped the covers back and climbed in, turning her back to him.
A second later, Rupert got into bed too. He reached for the blanket, e he could grab it, Sylvia et bched for the blanket, b snatched it all to her si He glanced at her, then simply wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close.
Sylvia stiffened, startled. "Why-why aren't you wearing pajamas?" "You're wearing mine." It finally clicked-after all that tpicking out pajamas, she'd grabbed Rupert's own set.
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She felt her cheeks burn, but refused to admit it. Instead, she squeezed her eyes shut and pretended to be asleep. A few moments passed in silence, until Rupert spoke, his voice low and husky.
"Sylvia, givesof the blanket." She ignored him, still faking sleep.
Suddenly, the blanket was yanked hard, and Sylvia-blanketand all-rolled right into his arms. Before she could react, he was holding her tight.
She squirmed, but he only held her closer.
"Not tired?" His warm breath tickled her ear.
"I'm sleeping," she muttered, eyes still closed.
She'd meant it as an act, but soon enough, exhaustion took over and she really did drift off. Rupert, on the other hand, lay wide. awake ee gently turned her to f him, staring at her sleeping face lace! his expression growing serious.
Who was the little girl in that dream? And what did she mean by "Christmas"?