Chapter 1155: Chapter 1155: He’s a Normal Man

Butler Santana came in and brought her a bowl of fragrant osmanthus wine rice balls.

“Miss Yale, have a little to warm yourself up. I made a bowl for Mr. Cheney as well.”

“Thank you, Butler Santana.”

Jasmine Yale put down the hairdryer and walked outside.

The rice balls were very fragrant, topped with a thin layer of yellow osmanthus, the rich aroma of the wine mingling with the delicate scent of the flowers.

The rice balls, a specialty of the Jiangnan region, were something she didn’t expect Butler Santana would know how to make.

Jasmine loved them, and she knew Sylvan did too.

After Butler Santana delivered them, he left, and Jasmine walked over to try a bite. It was still the flavor she loved.

She sat on Sylvan’s bed, the chill already dispelled, her whole body warm.

The night deepened, and she turned off the light, wrapping herself in his blankets. His scent lingered on the covers and pillow, enveloping her nose, inescapable.

It seemed like the wind was blowing outside. He had said it would get colder during the night. That meant it would be very cold early the next morning.

Thinking about it, Jasmine closed her eyes and fell asleep.

Having hustled the whole day, she was exhausted.

In her dreams, she missed Sweet Kitty a little. She was sure Sweet Kitty must be worried during her absence.

Although she had entrusted Sweet Kitty to Aunt Camden, she knew how clingy the cat was and likely missed her dearly…

Jasmine slept deeply that night.

She was awakened by a pair of warm hands embracing her.

In a daze, she just felt her waist being encircled, like seaweed.

The hands gradually reached into her pajamas and slowly slid down.

Jasmine woke up. She shifted her body and realized there was someone lying beside her.

“Sylvan…” she frowned, knowing it was him.

He then withdrew his hand and wrapped it properly around her waist, ceasing any improper movements.

There was a slight moistness on his fingers, which he ambiguously rubbed against her pajamas a couple of times.

“What are you doing…” Jasmine was sleepy, her voice weak, but after stirring a bit, she fell back into a deep sleep.

She really couldn’t be bothered to move.

“Sleep,” Sylvan coaxed her in a low voice.

His voice was low and husky, filled with restrained steadiness. To say he felt nothing would be a lie; he was a normal man.

Jasmine’s breathing was even, and Sylvan didn’t fidget, just holding her from behind.

Both were only wearing thin nightwear, pressed together, and Sylvan was somewhat struggling to hold on.

His breath was burning hot, and he tried his best to control his emotions.

In her sleep, Jasmine accidentally touched his chest, causing Sylvan to frown and let out a muffled groan.

But Jasmine showed no reaction and snuggled closer within his embrace.

She treated him like a pillow.

In Sylvan’s arms, Jasmine was still cold to the touch, so he held her, placing her feet in his lap.

Gradually, her body warmed up, and her hands and feet too.

She was like a frail cat, curled up, nestled in his arms, with his chin resting on her forehead.

That night, Jasmine slept especially peacefully.

She was very familiar with his bed, having slept in it many times since childhood.

On the vast bed, he held her, maintaining the same position throughout.

Jasmine liked to move around. In the middle of the night, she ended up lying on his arm, and it remained that way until dawn.

Sylvan’s arm was sore, but he kept the same posture, letting her sleep in the crook of his arm.

The wild wind continued all night.

Sylvan hadn’t expected her to quietly return from Cakago without warning, completely unexpected.

Holding her, he refused to let go.

His habit of waking up early was disrupted that day too.