Chapter 234: Chapter 234: Tonight, You Were the One Who Invited Me
It was a rainy night in late autumn.
The fine pitter-patter of rain sounded from outside the window, where the halos of the streetlights melted into a hazy, warm yellow on the slick glass.
Wren Sutton’s hands and feet were ice-cold as she curled up on the sofa. A soft cashmere blanket was draped over her, but the dull, heavy ache in her lower abdomen made her brow furrow slightly.
Adrian Lancaster walked over from the kitchen, holding a white porcelain cup.
Steam swirled from the rim, carrying the distinct, spicy aroma of old ginger and the rich sweetness of brown sugar.
He sat down beside Wren Sutton and gently placed the cup in her hands.
"Be careful, it’s hot." His voice was even gentler than usual.
Wren Sutton’s cold fingers touched the warm porcelain, and she hummed softly in acknowledgment.
She held the cup, lowered her head, and took small sips.
The slightly scalding brown sugar water slid down her throat. Its spiciness, mixed with sweetness, spread all the way to her stomach. Then, like ripples from a stone tossed into a lake, warmth radiated outward in waves, gradually dispelling the chill in her abdomen.
She drank very slowly, her long lashes cast down, throwing a small, quiet shadow beneath her eyes.
When Wren Sutton finished the last drop, Adrian Lancaster took the empty cup and set it aside. Then he reached out and lifted her, blanket and all, onto his lap.
Her back was pressed against his warm chest, and she could feel his strong heartbeat.
"Still in pain?"
"My stomach feels a little warmer after the brown sugar water, but it still hurts a bit." ’Period cramps are a woman’s worst nightmare.’
"I’ll rub your stomach for you."
"Okay."
Wren Sutton relaxed completely, leaning lazily into Adrian Lancaster’s embrace.
Adrian Lancaster’s chin would occasionally brush against the crown of her head, and a feather-light kiss would land on her hair.
Silent, yet more tender than any words.
Outside, the rain fell with a lingering PITTER-PATTER.
Inside, the lighting was soft, the room quiet and warm.
Wren Sutton could clearly feel the warmth of Adrian Lancaster’s palm through the thin fabric of her clothes, a steady and constant heat soothing her lower abdomen.
The rhythm of his massage was slow. Each press carried a steady strength, pushing slowly outward from the center, patiently kneading away and dissolving the accumulated dull ache.
It was so comfortable that Wren Sutton couldn’t help but snuggle deeper into his embrace. Sensing her dependence, Adrian Lancaster held her even tighter.
"Feel good?" Adrian Lancaster lowered his head, his lips almost brushing against the shell of Wren Sutton’s ear. He kept his voice low and breathy, making it sound exceptionally magnetic and gentle in the quiet, rainy night.
Wren Sutton nodded in his arms. "Very."
Hearing this, Adrian Lancaster’s movements became even more meticulous.
He was no longer just rubbing in circles. Now, he used his knuckles to press along specific meridians with just the right amount of force, pushing down from around her navel, then slowly downward, and then to the sides.
At first, it was a little sore, but following that soreness was a sense of relief, as if a blockage had been cleared.
Wren Sutton could feel the chill that had made her frown being slowly driven away by this gentle yet firm force.
Time flowed by quietly.
Wren Sutton’s consciousness began to drift. Her eyelids felt heavy, and she was drowsy.
She felt Adrian Lancaster’s other hand move from her shoulder to gently comb through her loose hair. His fingertips would occasionally brush against her earlobe or the nape of her neck, bringing a faint, pleasant tickle.
Then, that hand also came to rest on the back of his massaging hand. With both hands layered, they completely cupped her lower abdomen, and the heat seemed to double, becoming even warmer.
After an unknown amount of time, Wren Sutton felt Adrian Lancaster shift slightly, as if adjusting his posture to let her lean more comfortably against him.
His warm lips descended again. This time, not on the crown of her head, but gently pressed against her temple. They lingered for several seconds before slowly pulling away.
It was a kiss devoid of any lust, filled only with pure tenderness and affection.
"Go to sleep," he murmured. The movement of his hands finally slowed, turning into a gentler, more soothing caress, as if he were cherishing a rare treasure. "I’m here with you."
Wren Sutton gave a faint "mhm," closed her eyes, and relaxed completely.
The faint, spicy-sweet scent of the brown sugar ginger tea lingered in the air, mingling with the clean, pleasant scent that was uniquely Adrian Lancaster’s. She felt completely at ease.
As she was drifting off, Wren Sutton heard Adrian Lancaster whisper, "I heard women don’t get cramps after having a baby. Honey, let’s have a child."
...
Outside, fine snowflakes fell silently, blanketing the world in a quiet, pure white.
The heating was on full blast inside, and a thin layer of condensation had formed on the glass.
Wren Sutton had taken off her shoes and was lounging on the spacious living room sofa. She’d turned a few pages of the book in her hand before her eyelids grew heavy.
After a day of year-end financial settlements and back-to-back meetings, her tense nerves finally unwound in the warm, quiet evening.
The book slipped from her fingers, and she fell asleep with her head tilted to one side.
When she woke up, the first thing she noticed was a familiar, clean scent mixed with the delicate warmth unique to cashmere.
Wren Sutton opened her eyes to find a light-colored cashmere blanket draped over her.
Her gaze shifted slightly, and she saw Adrian Lancaster sitting on the floor by the sofa.
He was leaning against the sofa with his long legs casually bent, his ever-present silver laptop resting on his lap.
The cool white light from the screen illuminated one side of his face, outlining a sharp and somewhat severe jawline.
His brow was slightly furrowed, his thin lips pressed together, and his long fingers tapped rapidly across the keyboard.
In the fireplace, electronic flames danced silently, casting a warm yellow glow.
Wren Sutton didn’t make a sound, just watched him quietly.
She was a secretary at The Lancaster Group, responsible for meticulously scheduling every minute of Adrian Lancaster’s day, accurately relaying every directive, and keeping his complex affairs perfectly organized.
At the company, she and Adrian Lancaster maintained a professional distance. Their interactions were concise, their boundaries clear. No one knew she was his legal wife.
But here at home, Adrian Lancaster had shed his crisp suit for dark loungewear. He had lost his aloof aura, replaced by a more down-to-earth approachability.
Perhaps because her gaze had lingered for too long, Adrian Lancaster suddenly seemed to notice. The tapping of his fingers on the keyboard stopped abruptly, and he turned his head.
Their eyes met. The layer of icy sternness in his eyes, born from deep concentration, melted away as if touched by a warm current, softening instantly.
"Did I wake you?" Adrian Lancaster asked, his voice low, magnetic, and slightly hoarse, as it often was after work.
Wren Sutton shook her head and pushed herself up into a sitting position, the cashmere blanket sliding halfway off.
"No, I woke up on my own."
She turned to glance at the clock on the wall. It was six-thirty. "I can’t believe I slept this long," she said, surprised.
A hint of heartache flashed in Adrian Lancaster’s eyes. "It just means you were tired."
Just as he finished speaking, a housekeeper entered the living room.
"Young Master, Young Madam, dinner is ready."
Wren Sutton gave a helpless smile, stretched, and got up from the sofa.
"Eat, sleep, sleep, eat. I’m going to turn into a pig."
"There’s no pig in the world as beautiful as you."
Adrian Lancaster set down his laptop, took Wren Sutton’s hand, and they walked to the dining room, talking and laughing.
After dinner, Adrian Lancaster went back to work. Wren Sutton kept him company, sitting beside him and reading quietly, neither disturbing the other.
In the blink of an eye, it was ten-thirty at night.
Wren Sutton let out a small yawn.
’I slept for so long this afternoon, I thought I’d have insomnia tonight. I can’t believe I’m already getting sleepy.’
’It must be because I ate too much for dinner!’
Wren Sutton put down her book and turned to look at Adrian Lancaster. He was still engrossed in his work. His side profile was handsome and incredibly charming.
She was familiar with Adrian Lancaster’s work habits—he didn’t like to be disturbed. But when she saw the faint dark circles under his eyes and the lingering weariness in his brow, all rational considerations gave way.
"Honey," Wren Sutton called out softly.
"It’s getting late. Can you deal with these files tomorrow?"
Adrian Lancaster’s fingers stopped typing, but his gaze remained on the numbers on his computer screen, as if he were weighing whether or not he should listen to his wife.
For a few seconds of silence, the light and shadows from the fireplace danced on the contours of his profile.
...
Just as Wren Sutton thought Adrian Lancaster wouldn’t answer, or would give a standard reply like "I’ll be done in a minute," he suddenly closed the laptop.
With a soft CLICK, the screen went dark.
He casually placed the laptop on the carpet beside him and turned to face Wren Sutton.
"Tired, aren’t you?" he asked, his gentle gaze landing on her face.
Wren Sutton admitted, "A little. Besides, you need to rest, too. Work is never-ending."
Adrian Lancaster watched her quietly for a moment without saying anything, then walked over and swept her up into his arms.
Wren Sutton let out a cry of surprise and instinctively wrapped her arms around his shoulders as the cashmere blanket slid to the floor.
"Then let’s go to sleep together."
Adrian Lancaster crossed the living room with steady steps and headed for the bedroom.
A warm yellow night light was on by the bed, its soft glow creating an intimate atmosphere.
Adrian Lancaster placed Wren Sutton on the bed, and an instant later, his scorching presence enveloped her.
Adrian Lancaster braced his arms on either side of Wren Sutton, his distinctly masculine dominance trapping her completely beneath his shadow.
The light from the bedside lamp shone from behind him, tracing the outline of his silhouette with a hazy halo.
Their breathing gradually grew heavy.
...
Wren Sutton saw the scorching desire in Adrian Lancaster’s dark, deep eyes. She knew what it meant and shyly averted her gaze, too embarrassed to look at him.
Adrian Lancaster’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he leaned in closer to her.
"Mrs. Lancaster, you’re the one who invited me tonight."
