Encore of the Avenging Muse (Sylvia and Rupert)

Chapter 493

"Yeah."

"Wait-what? That's all? Since when are you so agreeable?"

Chris had come prepared with a whole speech, but Rupert just cut him off with a low voice: "Cut the crap. What else?"

Chris, already pulling on a pair of latex gloves, got serious. "What else is—lie down. I need to change your bandage. Now."

Rupert didn't argue. He just lay down without a word.

Chris worked fast, hands steady. "Stop doing stupid things, all right? Tear this open again and you're in trouble."

"Yeah," Rupert muttered.

He sat up, moving slow, and only bothered to button three buttons on his shirt. The open collar showed off a slice of his chest-injured or not, the muscle definition was still damn impressive.

He lit a cigarette, exhaling a swirl of smoke, his voice husky and a little rough around the edges.

"She's really okay?"

"She's fine." Chris peeled off his gloves, then changed the subject. "Shouldn't you go check on her?"

Rupert stubbed out the cigarette and left the room.

***

Kitchen.

on slicing potatoes too absorbed to notice Rupert leaning against the doorframe behind

her in

underneath hugged her curves. The apron strings tied at her waist, accentuating her hips and the gentle curve

movements

had done something here before—memories flashing through his mind: her in that

a bit depraved. Before he could get a grip, his hands moved on their own, settling on Sylvia's shoulders just like

her grip.

murdering your husband?" Rupert shot back, almost

over

didn't snap at him

She just looked

Own at the

said

half-chopped potatoes and

"You're not." Content

yet, anyway. Soon, he'd belong

argue. If anything, he seemed to confirm it with his

neither of them

s in uneven chun

Shane

but

not to care,

Rupert took the knife from her

turn potato sticks

do it yourself," Sylvia shot

staring at his bare chest, the black shirt open to reveal strong, sculpted lines, the fabric clinging to his body in all the