Chapter 164

The rain continued its gentle patter outside. The wind seemed to have picked up, sending raindrops tapping against the windowpane.

But at that moment, George heard none of it. His world had gone completely silent, his mind a total blank. His entire body was rigid, as if frozen in place.

A second later, his brain slowly rebooted, and a possessive, feverish excitement

flooded his eyes.

He was in the same bed as Stella.

In the same bed.

The intoxicating scent of the girl filled his senses, captivating him completely.

This was pure bliss.

He felt her hand begin to explore, as if searching for something. The next moment, it landed on his body. Her small, soft hand felt like it was carrying an electric current. A tingling numbness shot through him, and all his blood rushed to one place. His hands, with their well-defined knuckles, unconsciously gripped the bedsheets.

But just as quickly, her hand withdrew.

A huge wave of disappointment washed over George. "Was she not satisfied with how I felt?"

Marguerite's palm felt like it had been scalded, and she was now wide awake.

The first thought that entered her mind was: "What did I just touch?"

Completely inexperienced, she tried to recall the sensation. It was firm, with large, distinct muscles. It definitely wasn't his-

Abs? Or pecs?

It had felt nice, but she hadn't had time to savor it.

A second thought quickly took over. "Is George awake?"

Marguerite didn't dare make a move. She regulated her breathing and cautiously turned her head to look at the person beside her. It was too dark to see clearly, but she could make out the man's silhouette lying flat on his back, perfectly still.

Marguerite turned her head back, letting out a soft breath through her parted red lips.

“Okay, okay. George seems to be a deep sleeper." He hadn't been woken up by her touching-no, bothering him. Besides, if he were awake, he would have shot out of bed in shock by now.

A small pang of guilt pricked at Marguerite's conscience. George was such a gentleman, so refined and noble. And here she was, climbing into his bed in the middle of the night and groping him.

"Marguerite, you've really crossed a line."

She had to get out of there before he

found out. If he discovered what

she'd done, they couldn't even be friends

. He might even net

throw her out on the street. Who would want a friend who climbs into

their bed at night? As the saying goes, a friend gives you whand, but a creep gets handsy. It was especially terrifying since she had explicitly refused to sleep in the bed twice, only to climb in on her own.

But then again... she was already here, and the handsome man was sound asleep.

Should she...?

It was early autumn, and he was only covered by a thin silk blanket. She had touched him through both the blanket and his pajamas, and even then, he had felt incredible. She could only imagine how amazing it would feel to touch him directly.

Her thoughts began to run wild, and Marguerite had to pinch her own thigh to rein herself in. “You perverts, this is too much. You can't do this!"

But an opportunity like this was a once-in-a-lifetime event. Once it was gone, it was gone forever. She desperately wanted to feel what abs like the ones described in novels were really like.

A war raged in Marguerite's mind, her left and right brain battling for control. She couldn't stop her slender legs from pressing together.

In the end, reason prevailed. “Forget it, forget it. Be a decent human being."

Holding her breath, Marguerite carefully wiggled toward the edge of the bed. She lowered one leg, her foot touching the floor. Tiptoeing like a thief, she made her way back to the sofa.

Goodbye, abs and pecs...

Feeling the girl carefully getting out of bed, George had to use every ounce of his strength to stop himself from reaching out and

pulling her back. The veins on net

arms bulged, and the movement pulled at his wound, sending sharp, intense pain through him.

She had gotten into bed out of habit, and her search for her cat plushie

had led her to touch him by accident. The unfamiliar texture had woken her up. After waking, she seemed nervous, probably regretting her mistake. But since she was already there, and clearly curious

about his body, why didn't she touch

him again?

His long, dark eyelashes lowered as his hand reached out, searching for the warmth

she had left behind.