For Eloise to barge in so confidently, Isidore had silently allowed it.
Long before Charlie led her to the door, he had already heard the commotion. However, he remained unfazed, casually removing the thin white shirt underneath, taking a damp towel, and wiping the wine stains that had dripped onto his chest with one hand.
Hearing Eloise's scream, Isidore looked up and saw her dramatically closing her eyes in a panic. He found it somewhat amusing, yet he couldn't help but feel disdainful of her futile attempt to block out the situation.
"Open your eyes," he said languidly, "Is there anywhere on me you haven't seen before?"
"I won't!" Eloise, afraid of getting an eye infection, added two more hands over her eyes. Below, her full, pale cheeks subtly flushed, resembling a sweet apple just waiting to be picked.
"Open them." Isidore licked his lips, deliberately speaking in an impatient tone.
"I won't!" After nearly two months, she didn't know what gave her the courage. Isidore lowered his eyelashes slightly and said, "There's a rat running by your feet."
Hearing the word "rat," Eloise shuddered, and her feet, clad in high-heeled sandals, instinctively recoiled for a moment, though she quickly restrained herself and said, "You're lying. In such a high-end place, how could there be rats?"
Isidore let out a light laugh through his nose, the implication clear: "Believe it or not." He casually tossed the towel in his hand, and it landed precisely on Eloise's instep. "Ah! A rat! A rat!" Eloise screamed, her voice loud enough to shake the roof.
She hopped up and down as if stepping on nails, her feet alternating between lifts, yet she kept her eyes tightly shut, unwilling to open them. Isidore calmly directed her, "To the left, it ran to the right. It's coming back, take two steps forward..."
In her panic, Eloise instinctively followed his command, darting like a headless fly in the darkness. But suddenly, she collided into a broad, familiar embrace, two strong arms wrapping around her back.
The skin she touched was bare and warm; the scent of male pheromones lingered strongly in her nose. Eloise's breath faltered, her shoulders tensing, unsure where to place her hands.
Soft, silky hair cascading to her back was gently caressed by a large hand. "It's been a while, your hair has grown so much?" Isidore spoke close to her ear, his voice husky, the warm breath from his lips both tingling and heated.
Eloise's heart began to race uncontrollably. She quickly regained her composure and struggled to break free from his embrace, pushing, "Let go of me!" "Don't move." Isidore let out a suppressed breath, and by the sound of it, it seemed like something about his body was discomforted.
Eloise faintly sensed that one of his arms seemed to lose some strength, the force of his struggle momentarily weakened. In those brief seconds of hesitation, Isidore lowered his head and kissed her, firmly capturing her lips, his tongue slipping inside.
"Mmm!" Eloise was kissed to the point she couldn't catch her breath, her head held firmly, with no space to escape. Her saliva was constantly taken from her mouth at various angles, and when he finally released her, she couldn't feel her own tongue anymore.
"You're tricking me again!" she said angrily, speaking with a swollen tongue. Isidore's gaze, deep and lingering beneath his eyelashes, fell upon the glimmering trace of moisture at the corner of her lips, a silent desire to taste it rising within him. He said hoarsely, "I'm not tricking you."
He pulled back by about ten centimeters, and only then did Eloise see the deep, jagged wound on the upper part of his left chest.
She was first taken aback, but upon closer inspection, she couldn't help but gasp. The wound appeared deep, its shape grotesque, with raw, unhealed flesh still exposed at the edges.
"How did this happen?" The fear in her large eyes was clear, as if the wound itself had shaken her.
Isidore looked at her, and strangely, a flicker of amusement crossed his mind. He calmly replied, "I got it a little over a month ago in the hunting grounds. It's nothing." Just one more centimeter, and it would have been fatal.
Enjoying your worry," he murmured, but unable to bear the sight of her pale face, Isidore softened his tone and comforted her: "It was almost healed half a month ago, it's really nothing serious."
But Eloise could clearly see that the shallow edge of the wound was tinged with a pale, ashen hue, the result of the wine that had trickled down—wine she had poured herself. Instantly, her heart clenched as if someone had gripped it tightly, and the guilt overwhelmed her, making it hard to breathe.
Isidore gently pulled a strand of hair from beside her ear, twirling it playfully around his long fingers, and teasingly said: "Don't be like this. I still prefer seeing you these past few weeks in the South, eating and drinking without a care, surfing and sunbathing with that carefree, happy look."
Of the entire sentence, only the words "carefree and heartless" were the real message he intended. Such a blatant sarcasm, Eloise could still catch it.
She pouted and shot him a glare, but ultimately couldn't overcome her guilt. She pulled him to the nearby sofa, sat him down, and gently wiped the skin around the wound with a clean towel.
For a moment, the small space was filled only with the sound of breathing, each breath growing heavier than the last.
Isidore gazed unmoving at Eloise's focused face, the dark clouds in his deep eyes swirling ever more intensely. Unable to contain himself any longer, he grasped her hand on his chest and leaned in to kiss her again.
"Ah!" Eloise turned away, her gaze inadvertently drifting downward to the raised area, which inevitably reminded her of the forceful strike she had delivered the last time they parted—such a vicious kick, and yet, nothing seemed to have come of it?
What kind of once-in-a-lifetime perverted constitution is this?!
"You're so easily aroused!" She blurted out what was on her mind without thinking, not considering the consequences of angering Isidore. But to her surprise, he wasn't angry. Instead, he smiled, seeming unashamed, and whispered in her ear, "Whenever I see you, I want to."
When the words reached Eloise's ears, her feelings were complicated. She couldn't make up her mind whether it was better for someone as ruthless and cold-hearted as Isidore to be angry or aroused upon seeing her.
But it seemed she didn't have much of a choice. She subtly pushed her shoulders and knees upward, offering a faint resistance within the space defined by his body, her voice barely a whisper, "Don't do this…"
Isidore caught her delicate wrist, halting all of his movements.
Eloise lifted her gaze in confusion, meeting his eyes through the strands of hair that fell from his forehead. He was holding himself back, his body positioned above hers, leaving ample space, but his shadow still filled the air with its subtle, suggestive presence.
He bent down and gently kissed the corner of her mouth, his voice soft as he said, "Don't try to avoid me. Last time, it was my fault. The kick you gave me afterward must have felt satisfying, right?" Eloise's gaze flickered. She never would have expected Isidore to actually reflect on it…
"I was too self-centered, too impatient, and didn't take your feelings into account. I shouldn't have pushed you so hard." He was surprisingly conciliatory. Eloise furrowed her brow, feeling conflicted. She couldn't tell if he was being sincere, because while his tone seemed earnest, the look in his eyes remained inscrutable.
Isidore said, "I'll wait until you say it's okay, then I'll continue."
Eloise let out a sigh of relief, thinking that after saying those words, he would get up and try to win her over with some gentlemanly gesture. But to her surprise, the hand that had released her wrist slid down along the curve of her waist, and came to a halt on her firm, rounded hips.
His fingers moved slightly, expertly kneading — it was the same old perverted routine! "You just say…" She was both angry and astonished. How could someone's words mean nothing the moment they left their mouth?
He lowered his head and nipped at the skin on her neck, his voice low and smooth, "Yes, that's why I'm trying, to make you say it's okay."
He pressed and kneaded steadily, making her entire body go weak. And that thick, hot penis was pressed against her inner thigh: "Shall I go in now, okay?"
Scoundrel, so this was what he meant!
