Encore of the Avenging Muse (Sylvia and Rupert) novel Chapter 157

"Come here."

Sylvia pressed her lips, unable to decipher his thoughts. But she couldn't leave, so she had no choice but to approach.

As soon as she sat down, her injured hand was taken by him. He pulled out a tube of burn ointment from his pocket and applied some on Sylvia's wound.

Sylvia blinked in surprise. How did he know?

Soon, a cooling sensation replaced her confusion, instinctively relaxing her body. Accompanied by the scent of lavender, it felt as if the world became a bit clearer.

Rupert's head bowed, his expression was hidden as he spoke softly, "How did you find out about Bailey's incident? That was news from ten years ago. After the car crash, Bailey had all the news pulled."

As Sylvia heard this, her relaxed body tensed again, her fingers involuntarily curling. She looked at Rupert, a bitter smile in her heart.

She had him to thank for that.

In her previous life, she had overheard many fragmented pieces of information outside Rupert's study. Even though it wasn't clear, tracing back through time, it wasn't hard to find.

Even if Bailey pulled the news about her husband, the accident reports not specifying names weren't completely erased.

But of course, she couldn't tell Rupert that.

Sylvia withdrew her hand, avoiding his gaze, "I found it myself. If Bailey really loved camellias that much, why would she plant the most delicate ones in the garden closest to the bathroom?"

Rupert looked up, clearly not convinced, but he didn't press further. He took out some gauze, "Your hand is not bandaged yet."

"I can do it myself."

Sylvia reached for the gauze in his hand. But he didn't let go, instead, he used the opportunity to pull her into his embrace.

Sylvia found herself sitting on his lap, her back at him, struggling to get up, but his arms were strong and effortlessly kept her trapped against his chest.

Smoke dispersed in the darkness, and the sound of rain hitting the window couldn't hide the increasingly intertwined breathing.

Outside, the moonlight was veiled, casting a faint glow, just enough to illuminate Sylvia. Her face was flushed, her eyes dazed, sweat had already matted her hair messily on her forehead.

Rupert's gaze was turbulent as he lifted his hand to her cheek, the difference in temperature making her nuzzle into his palm.

His fingertips glided down, and she instinctively tilted her head back, exposing her delicate neck. Rupert caressed the skin on Sylvia’s neck, her breathing suddenly became rapid, and she swallowed reflexively, causing him to pause as if scorched.

The next moment, Sylvia felt a hot breath on her neck.

"Uncomfortable?" Rupert's voice was low and husky.

"...Yes."

"Let it out yourself."