Seeing her enter, Isidore said nothing. He exchanged a brief glance before walking into the bathroom of the room to wash up. When he emerged, his hair was damp at the tips.
Eloise sat obediently at the edge of the bed, her big eyes looking at him. "Are you done?" Compared to the resolute coldness with which she had rejected him earlier in the day, her demeanor had softened considerably. This girl has always been adept at judging the situation.
"Mm." He lifted one side of the blanket on the bed and lay down, his body nearly longer than the bed itself. Seeing that he was truly about to sleep, Eloise had no choice but to head to the bathroom herself.
Having been suddenly brought to this place, she had no change of clothes. To make matters worse, she was wearing a pair of slightly tight jeans, which made it uncomfortable to sleep in bed. Seeing that Isidore's back suggested he had already fallen asleep, she decided to leave, wearing nothing but her underwear.
She lifted the other side of the blanket and lay down, keeping a considerable distance between them.
However, Isidore's tall frame seemed to fill the blanket, and every time he moved, his body brushed against hers. She would pull her legs back as if burned, curling up more and more into herself.
Isidore, unable to tolerate any longer, said, "Do you want me to sleep on the floor?" "Ah, no," Eloise replied, shocked. Was he not asleep yet?
"I... I'm not wearing pants below." For some reason, she blurted it out, only realizing afterward how awkward and suggestive it sounded.
Isidore was silent for two seconds. "I'll have Milo arrange for a change of clothes to be brought tomorrow." In the darkness, he scoffed lightly, his tone cold with irony. "You don't need to be so on guard. Given the current circumstances, I'm not interested in being a rapist. If you don't want it, I won't force you."
"No..." Eloise said awkwardly, the words lingering in the deep silence of the night. There was a rustling under the blanket as she slowly spread her legs. Her soft foot brushed against the firm, toned muscles of his calf, but neither of them moved away.
The physical contact seemed to open a window for her to release her words. She said, "Hey," and then started talking incessantly, "What's the drug that madman injected into you? What's it for?"
"Who knows," he replied calmly. "He invested in many unofficial pharmaceutical organizations, specializing in developing strange and bizarre drugs."
What a bizarre person. Eloise wrinkled her brow in disgust. "Are there any side effects?"
Isidore's tone was as if he were talking about someone else. "Drugs, no one can say for sure."
"He said the antidote needs to be taken every half month. He wouldn't withhold it from you, would he?"
"No. Though he hates me, he still needs my help with his business."
Eloise inched a little closer. "We... won't die, right?" "No," Isidore, probably tired, sighed and briefly said, "Stop overthinking."
"Then we will..." The night had grown deep. Isidore turned onto his back, facing the ceiling, and the presence he exuded seemed to intensify by a whole measure. He interrupted her, his tone indifferent: "Why so many questions? Not tired?"
Eloise fell silent, and after a while, she still hadn't slept. "Because I..." she whispered, "I'm a little scared." Isidore turned his head silently, his golden eyes gleaming in the darkness of the night. He watched as she curled herself back up, sniffled a couple of times, and her breathing slowly became more even.
He remained motionless, his gaze fixed on the gentle rise and fall of her rounded shoulder. After an unknown amount of time, he extended his hand, gripping her shoulder and, with slight force, turned her to face him. He stared for a couple of seconds before pulling her into his embrace. After a brief hesitation, his palm gently patted her back, as if to comfort her. At this moment, holding her should not result in rejection.
He slowly stroked her soft, smooth hair, the sweet fragrance enveloping his senses, soothing his restless soul. Mr. Ravenscroft's sudden death had caught him off guard. After years of persistence, some things seemed to have become empty, and there was a corner of his heart that felt hollow.
In this world, another person who could make him feel the meaning of existence had become one less.
The one unable to sleep was, in fact, him. Isidore rested his chin on Eloise's shoulder, as if a person frozen in the long winter night, slowly drawing warmth, little by little.
Unknowingly, the two bodies under the quilt had drawn closer together. On the chest, two soft, cotton-like mounds pressed against each other. A large hand, resting on the hair, slid down the back and moved toward the arm. It paused for a moment, and the fingers, like spiders with long legs, moved one by one from the arm to the warm fullness at the side.
The sensation in his hand became incredibly soft, and he couldn't help but bury his head into her neck, rubbing against it as he pressed deeper. Then he opened his mouth, taking the exposed collarbone at the neckline into it, gently licking with the tip of his tongue.
Eloise had never been a peaceful sleeper, a fact he had known from the very first day they met. Her upper body suddenly twisted twice, her leg lifted, and her knee brushed against his thigh. After a brief nudge, she lowered it again and let out a soft, indistinct murmur.
Isidore released her, creating a small gap of half an arm's length between them. He gazed at her peaceful sleeping face, still so serene. She had spoken of fear, yet here she was, sleeping soundly. Despite it all, there was not the slightest sign of her waking.
His eyelashes gently lowered. The twist she made just now caused the collar to loosen considerably, revealing a semicircular curve, faintly visible in the exposed area of her neckline, blindingly fair.
Adam's apple bobbing up and down, he continued to move his hand downward.
Eloise's top, which had barely covered her hips, was lifted due to her restless sleeping position. His palm brushed over the rough lace pattern, gliding across the soft, smooth flesh of her hips, and lingered on the tender outer side of her thigh. He caressed up and down, and it was this very leg that had lifted earlier to brush against him.
His fingers pressed down firmly, lifting upward to raise that mischievous leg, placing it at his waist. To his surprise, it obediently wrapped around him on its own. As if it wasn't tight enough, perhaps dreaming that she had turned into a monkey climbing a tree, Eloise let out a couple of soft hums, her inner thigh pressing against Isidore's lower abdomen.
He paused slightly, his palm gripping the outer side of her thigh, skillfully untangling himself from the entanglement. Eloise let out an unhappy sound, like a little girl whose teddy bear had been taken from her.
Isidore calmly stroked Eloise's back, as if comforting a frightened little rabbit in her dreams, exuding an air of tenderness. His eyes lingered on her, filled with affection and longing. With each gentle touch, the restlessness that had plagued her sleep slowly faded, and she gradually calmed.
Isidore gazed at her, so alluring, his restraint nearly on the verge of breaking. He leaned closer to Eloise, imprinting her scent deeply into his memory. He wasn't afraid of waking her; he only wanted to alleviate some of the discomfort he felt, otherwise... he feared he might do something even more inappropriate.
The sensation in the palm seemed to open the meridians, a pleasure climbing along the spine. Like a wisp of smoke, it dissipated, leaving behind a deeper emptiness.
Isidore gazed intently at the delicate, peaceful sleeping face before him, his expression unchanged, yet his eyes grew darker. She truly slept so peacefully. As if openly telling him that he could draw closer to her.
He didn't want to, nor could he be polite. He slowly brought his head closer to Eloise's face. Under the shimmering moonlight, Isidore gently caressed the strands of her hair, the deep affection in his eyes impossible to conceal, before solemnly placing a kiss on her forehead.
Eloise likely thought she was dreaming, her soft, pink lips pressed together in a confused pout. Isidore turned his head, parted his lips, and gently captured hers.
