Encore of the Avenging Muse (Sylvia and Rupert) novel 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.

Sylvia stood at the counter, totally focused on slicing potatoes—too absorbed to notice Rupert leaning against the doorframe behind her.

He watched her in silence.

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 her back.

Even the most ordinary movements looked irresistible on her.

Rupert’s imagination ran 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 soft moans filling his ears.

For the first time, Rupert wondered if maybe he was actually a bit depraved.

Before he could get a grip, his hands moved on their own, settling on Sylvia’s shoulders just like in his memory.

She jumped, the knife wobbling in her grip. "Mr. Rupert, what are you—?"

"Planning on murdering your husband?" Rupert shot back, almost without thinking.

Silence fell over the kitchen.

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