Xavier Fostern opened his eyes, lifted the person curled up on his lap, and frowned. “Finished watching?”
Cecilia Ye, having sat herself back up, gave an awkward little smile. “Yeah, all done.”
He gazed at his petite wife in the dim light—her beauty almost alarming, half her face cast in shadow. The body wrapped in his arms was soft and small, a warmth he could feel through his fingertips.
The air grew inexplicably charged, and he gently traced his fingers along her. The sensation was delightful.
He leaned in closer. Cecilia Ye instinctively shrank back, only to send herself straight into the hand he’d placed behind her. Her waist was firmly caught in his arms.
Xavier Fostern’s eyes, dark and intense with desire, fixed on her. Cecilia Ye gulped and stammered, “Turn... turn on the light.”
Xavier Fostern didn’t move. After a long, meaningful look, he suddenly leaned in and captured her lips.
He kissed her slowly—she was soft, sweet, and fragrant.
His little wife arched her neck, accepting his kisses as his hand slid up to cradle her slender nape.
There was nowhere to hide. In the murky darkness, the two of them exchanged a moist, heated kiss.
The room was utterly quiet. Cecilia Ye could only hear her own thundering heartbeat; it felt as though they were lovers sneaking a kiss in a movie theater.
“Mmph...” Xavier Fostern’s kisses turned more forceful. Cecilia Ye felt her breath being taken away.
She tried to push him away but failed. Feeling his body so close to hers, she gripped his hand tightly, resisting.
Xavier Fostern let out a hiss and reluctantly pulled back. Even then, his gaze stayed locked on her, and it was a long moment before he regained his composure.
Her light-purple loungewear had slipped halfway down, but he simply reached out and pulled it up again. He hadn’t meant to push her—he just wanted to kiss her.
Xavier Fostern stood and turned on the light. The room brightened. Cecilia Ye’s lips were red and swollen, her eyes glistening with tears. Her small face was flushed crimson. She wiped her lips with the back of her hand, glaring reproachfully at Xavier Fostern. He’d kissed her so fiercely her lips hurt.
“Xavier Fostern, you can’t just—just kiss me whenever you want!”
Xavier Fostern sat back on the sofa. The spot on his arm where Cecilia Ye had clutched him was burning, and he wondered if the wound had split open again. But his face betrayed nothing; he only tossed out two words coolly, “I want to.”
Cecilia Ye was incensed by his domineering, shameless attitude. For a moment, she was at a loss for words.
Zara Zhao, the little dog, was struggling to climb onto the sofa with her short legs. Xavier Fostern bent down and scooped her up, setting her beside Cecilia Ye. Two fuzzy creatures, side by side—quite the pair.
A splotch of red had seeped into the sleeve of Xavier Fostern’s white sweater. Cecilia Ye glanced over curiously.
“Xavier Fostern, did you get your clothes dirty?”
She reached out and grabbed his arm, noticing the red spreading and realizing what it was. Pulling up his sleeve, she hesitated. “Xavier Fostern, you're bleeding more.”
He didn’t resist, letting her move as she pleased. “It’s nothing, just a scratch.”
The white gauze had been soaked through with blood. Cecilia Ye remembered she’d just been squeezing his arm.
Her brows knitted tight. She felt an ache in her own arm in sympathy as she glared up at Xavier Fostern. “You should get a doctor to look at it! Why’s it still bleeding?”
“It’s fine.” Xavier Fostern stood and fetched the first-aid kit. “I'll just change the dressing.”
He handed the kit to Cecilia Ye before sitting down and rolling up his sleeve. The patch of gauze was palm-sized, dark red in the center with a rim of blood seeping at the edges.
Steeling herself, Cecilia Ye peeled away the medical tape. Under the lifted bandage, the wound oozed fresh blood, stitches crisscrossing the skin.
The wounded man sat there calmly, eyes still on the TV, as if he couldn’t feel any pain.
Cecilia Ye picked up some cotton balls to dab the blood away, her fingers trembling at the sight of such vivid red.
She felt suddenly dizzy. Her heart raced, and her hand faltered uncontrollably.
Noticing her pause, Xavier Fostern turned and saw his wife’s pale face. Her eyes were tightly shut—clearly she’d been frightened.
Such a timid little rabbit, he thought.
He gently took the cotton from her hand and carelessly wiped away the rest of the blood, then reapplied the ointment himself.
Cecilia Ye pressed her hand to her face, feeling weak. She’d always been squeamish about blood, though it was never this bad—maybe it was because it was Xavier Fostern’s wound, and that made her even more anxious.
“Sorry, let me help…”
She forced her eyes open. Luckily, Xavier Fostern had already cleaned the wound. Taking a fresh piece of gauze, she wrapped it up again for him.
A wave of inexplicable heartache swept through her. Xavier Fostern stroked her dark hair comfortingly. “It doesn’t hurt. Don’t be scared.”
Cecilia Ye tossed the blood-soaked gauze in the trash, then double-checked his arm. “Are you sure you don't need to see a doctor?”
“No need. You did a good job bandaging it.”
“How did you get hurt?”
Xavier Fostern’s thoughts drifted to the silly kid with the tiger-ear hat from this afternoon. He tilted his lips slightly. “Pulled a kid out of the water before he could fall in.”
Cecilia Ye paused, glancing down at her own belly. She couldn’t help but ask, “Zhiyen, do you… like children?”
Thinking of the snot-nosed, crying boy from earlier, Xavier Fostern shook his head. “No. They're a hassle.”
“…Oh.”
Her glassy eyes dimmed. Quietly, she whispered to the little one in her belly, Don’t worry. Daddy’s just joking. He’ll love you, really.
Cecilia Ye put the first-aid kit away and went to fix something to eat. It was a simple meal, but Xavier Fostern ate it with the same relish as last time.
After dinner, Xavier Fostern sat on the sofa with his laptop, working.
Out in the garden, the lamps cast a warm yellow glow. Cecilia Ye stood by the window for a while, watching, but soon decided it was too cold to go out.
When she turned and saw Xavier Fostern still sitting there, a pang of frustration pinched at her. Was he planning to stay the night?
Sigh…
Bored, she curled up with a sketch pen in the single armchair across from Xavier Fostern and started to draw quick sketches. With a live model like this, it would be a shame not to take advantage.
Her sharpened pencil moved lightly over the sketch paper, easily capturing his sitting posture in a few deft lines.
Yes, Xavier Fostern’s hair wasn’t too long or too short. His profile was all hard edges and sharp angles—there was a clear cut at his jaw that made his whole face look stern and distant.
He had striking, refined features. When he worked, his brow would furrow just slightly, emphasizing his angular brow bones.
Cecilia Ye suddenly realized Xavier Fostern would make the perfect model. If his skull were cast in plaster, it’d be the ultimate artist’s reference!
Pfft…
She startled herself with the thought, shaking her head. That was a bit too morbid.
Balancing her pencil in her hand, Cecilia Ye narrowed one eye to gauge proportions through the air.
Her long lashes fluttered gently as she closed one eye to concentrate.
At that moment, Xavier Fostern, sensing her focused gaze, looked up from his laptop.