With a tenderness that felt both instinctive and profound, he began to clean her face. He wiped gently across her forehead, down the slope of her nose, over the wine-stained corners of her lips. She stirred slightly at the touch, a soft sigh escaping her, but did not wake.
He took her hand, uncurling her fingers to wipe the palm where the wine had spilled, then each finger in turn. Her hand was elegant yet strong, a hand that could wield magic and hurl accusations with equal force, now lying passive and trusting in his.
Satisfied, he rose and pulled the duvet from under her, then smoothly covered her up to her shoulders, tucking the edges around her. She immediately burrowed deeper into the pillow, a contented, sleepy sound humming in her throat.
Lu Yuze hesitated. The afternoon was still young, and a mountain of corporate work awaited his attention. But the thought of leaving her alone in this state, of retreating to his cold, formal study, felt deeply wrong.
