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.

counter, totally focused on slicing potatoes too absorbed to notice Rupert leaning against

watched her

apron was a little loose, but the fitted t-shirt underneath hugged her curves. The apron strings tied at her waist, accentuating her hips and the gentle curve of

the most ordinary movements

wild. He couldn't shake the feeling that he and Sylvia had done something here before—memories flashing through his mind: her in that apron, hair a mess, nails digging into his back, her

wondered if maybe he was actually a bit depraved. Before he could get a grip, his hands

knife wobbling in her grip.

husband?" Rupert shot back, almost

fell over

at him like

She just looked

Own at the

said

half-chopped potatoes and

"You're not." Content

Soon, he'd belong to someone

he seemed to confirm it

a long moment, neither of

s in uneven

Shane

but

not to care,

took the knife from her

to turn potato

do it yourself," Sylvia shot back, turning

herself staring at his bare chest, the black shirt open

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