Chapter 62 A Novel Moment of Gentleness
On a late autumn evening, the sky was a canvas of colorful clouds, adding a touch of brilliance to the twilight.
Grace walked into the Windsor family's apartment. As soon as she opened the door, Henry's warm voice filled the room.
"When I was abroad, I fixed those busted pipes myself. Clara, don't worry about the clothes; I'll change them in the morning!"
She wondered, 'What is Henry doing here?'
Grace closed the door and slowly changed her shoes. Clara noticed the noise and came out, whispering, "He's been here for an hour and even fixed the kitchen pipe! Is he here for you?"
Clara was surprised. Henry was usually so polished; when did he become a handyman? Men are predictable—give them a bit of attention, and they'll jump through hoops to impress!
Grace took off her coat and said softly, "I'll stay home tonight."
Clara sighed in relief. "Alright, I'll make dinner! Talk it out during dinner, and don't provoke your dad. He won't say it, but he definitely has opinions about Henry."
Grace knew this and just hummed in response.
Henry walked out of the kitchen and locked eyes with Grace. After a moment, he spoke in his usual calm manner, "Clara mentioned you went to an art exhibition. Did you catch pink eye from all that culture?"
Grace felt uneasy. It was because of what Felix had said. He said he could give up everything, and Grace remembered her own reckless past, which didn't end well.
She covered it up. "Oh, it was just the strong wind outside! Some sand must have blown into my eyes."
Henry didn't push for more details. During dinner, Grace seemed distant.
Sensing the tension, Clara glanced at Grace and gently suggested, "Why don't you go back with Henry? There's dancing here until midnight; it might be noisy for you."
Grace stayed silent.
Henry set down his fork with a soft smile. "Clara, a little excitement never hurt anyone! I'll stick around with Grace for a few days and also catch up with you and Nathan."
Clara focused on her meal, her mind racing. 'Henry is as thick-skinned as they come! How does Grace put up with him?' she thought.
After dinner, they lingered in the cozy living room, chatting casually. Eventually, Henry accompanied Grace to her spacious bedroom. The luxurious suite spanned about 400 square feet, with a quaint living area and a fully equipped bathroom.
Henry, being meticulous, wasted no time. He swiftly unbuttoned his shirt and unbuckled his belt and pants, leaving him in sleek black underwear.
Grace blushed and avoided his gaze.
Casually, Henry tossed her the car keys. "I've got some spare clothes in the trunk. Would you mind fetching them?"
Intrigued by Henry's preparedness, Grace wondered about his intentions. As he headed for a shower, she trailed behind, asking, "How long are you planning to stay?"
Henry turned on the shower, filling the bathroom with steam. His voice sounded hazy and lazy. "Until Mrs. Montague goes home with me."
Grace rolled her eyes at Henry's shamelessness. After fetching his clothes, she returned to find him lounging on the sofa in a bathrobe, playing with a lighter by the window.
Seeing Grace return, he asked lightly, "I had Celeste check; you haven't used the platinum card I gave you. Why don't you use my money?"
Grace shrugged and continued hanging up Henry's clothes. Once done, she shot back, "I've got my own stash, you know."
Henry pulled her onto his lap. As soon as Grace sat down, she felt uneasy, glanced down, and her face turned red.
Henry gently stroked her face. "It's not like you haven't seen it before. Why are you still shy?"
Grace turned her face away, leaning on his shoulder. Henry's fingers played with her hair, his voice lazy and sexy. "Did you earn your money playing the violin at Frank's? A few thousand dollars or tens of thousands? It's not even enough for high-end coffee."
Grace rested her head on his shoulder, feeling a wave of emotion. That money might seem trivial to him, but to her, it symbolized independence. She silently resolved to rely on her own strength from now on, not wanting to be at Henry's mercy or accept his money after moments of intimacy.
Even though Grace hadn't said a word, Henry seemed to understand her emotions. He held her, his large hand covering hers.
Grace uneasily struggled a bit. "Henry, I need to take a shower."
Henry grabbed her hand, interlocking their fingers. His forehead pressed against hers, his nose rubbing against her skin, an intimacy that was both tender and provocative.
Grace couldn't stand it and tilted her head slightly. "Henry, don't do this!"
Henry's blue eyes stared at her, his voice slightly hoarse. "Don't do what? You don't like it? But your body says otherwise."
Henry was attuned to Grace's menstrual cycle. Despite her attempt to deceive him the night before, he saw through her deception with a wry understanding.
Grace's cheeks burned red. She was afraid he would do something at home and be heard by Nathan and Clara, which would be too embarrassing.
Henry kissed her face, his fingers gently undressing her, soothing her tenderly.
He had never been so gentle, so patient. He didn't even try to invade her, just gently making her comfortable. His face was also burning hot, pressed against her, but his blue eyes kept watching her, observing her delicate face as she succumbed.
Grace suddenly bit his shoulder, making a sound. Henry turned her face to kiss her, gently coaxing her. His tenderness was something any woman would probably succumb to.
Afterwards, Grace hid in the bathroom to clean up. She hadn't recovered yet, her legs still trembling, and it took a long time to feel better.
As she emerged from her bath, thoughts swirled in her mind. Grace couldn't shake off the notion that if Henry desired her, he would simply ask for it. His intensity in such matters was unmistakable, and if he didn't find release, a restless night seemed imminent. Throughout their years together, Henry had never held back.
Upon entering the bedroom, Grace saw Henry engrossed in his phone, the picture of composure. Yet the faint trace of a familiar masculine scent lingered in the air, making her cheeks flush with embarrassment as she speculated that he had tended to his own needs.
Cautiously settling beside him, she couldn't help but feel a tinge of apprehension, wary of his potential desires stirring again.
Henry looked down at her and asked, "How long are you planning to stay?"
Grace's hand rested on the pillow. "Two or three days."
Henry didn't say anything. He lay down, seemingly ready to sleep, but his hand still held her waist. Grace couldn't sleep because of him, moving a bit every now and then.
Henry rubbed her. "If you can't sleep, want to do it once?"
She was so scared she didn't dare move!
In the dark, Henry chuckled silently. He leaned close to her, whispering in her ear, "There's an urgent matter at the company. I need to go on a business trip tomorrow morning. When I come back, I'll pick you up, okay?"
This was the first time Henry had reported his schedule to her. It wasn't premeditated, but in this atmosphere, it felt right to tell Grace these things. And after saying it, observing her face, Henry felt very good.
Grace was beautiful, pleasing to the eye. Henry was a man, and men liked beauty; it was impossible not to like pretty things.
Grace had her back to him. She was silent for a long time, finally asking, "Henry, what do you mean, what do you mean to me?"