CHAPTER 53: CHAPTER 53: EIGHTEEN MUST-LEARN HONEYMOON TECHNIQUES

Holly’s figure disappeared at the entrance, and the warmth in the living room suddenly cooled down.

Blake Sinclair glanced around, standing there absentmindedly rubbing his palm, which still seemed to retain the warmth of her waist.

Twenty-nine years of calculated maneuvering, having witnessed the ever-changing business world, handled countless matters of human relations, yet this heart beating erratically for Holly made him feel like a young boy for the first time.

All he could think about was that kiss that was about to happen, and her helplessness.

The sound of the door opening and closing came from the entrance.

The air carried a faint floral fragrance as Blake Sinclair turned his head and bumped right into Holly carrying flowers.

She approached with a bouquet of purple German irises, looking at him with a radiant smile.

"What’s this?" His voice was slightly hoarse, asking knowingly.

His feet moved uncontrollably towards her, and as his gaze locked onto her smiling eyes, his heart felt as if it had been hit with a soft, tingling sensation.

Holly placed the flowers in his arms, looking up at him, "Congratulations on your marriage, Mr. Sinclair. Last time I visited Sinclair Manor, I saw the German irises in the backyard. Shirley said you planted them yourself; they’re your favorite flowers."

She smiled, a bit sheepishly, "I can’t be the only one receiving gifts. You should get one too."

Blake Sinclair’s gaze fell on her face, so close to his, her curved lips and the way she looked up at him made his heart melt completely.

At this moment, her eyes were solely and wholly filled with him.

His heart felt as if it had been struck heavily, an uncontrollable thrill that lingered without end.

"German irises are hard to find." His voice was a bit tight.

"Yes." Holly gently fiddled with a petal and sighed, "I had to search a long time to find a florist that had them."

She suddenly looked up, her eyes full of genuine admiration, "So Blake Sinclair, you’re amazing, raising those German irises in the backyard so well. They all bloom beautifully."

Such straightforward praise with a hint of adoration made Blake Sinclair’s heart pitter-patter once again.

He instinctively tightened his grip on the bouquet, gently touching a petal to mask his embarrassment, "Thank you, I really like them."

Seeing his response, Holly’s smile widened.

She straightened slightly, took a small velvet box out of the bouquet, and opened it gently.

"The ring wasn’t ready in time, but this brooch seemed perfect for the occasion."

After seeing Blake Sinclair’s social media post in the morning, she started looking through flower shops, arranging for them to deliver around six.

Blake Sinclair had done so much for her, but marriage is something both persons should nurture, so she thought she should do something too.

The diamonds on the brooch sparkled faintly, but Blake Sinclair’s gaze barely lingered on the brooch, focusing on Holly’s eyes instead.

Seeing her seriously offering the brooch with both hands, it felt like she was entrusting her most precious possession to him, like she was placing her heart before him.

His heart filled with joy, nearly overflowing.

His Holly, forever knowing how to sway him completely.

Holly took out the brooch and tentatively asked, "Want to try it on?"

Blake Sinclair freed one hand, cradling the flowers with the other, then opened his arms, "Sure."

Holly took a step forward, almost stepping into his embrace.

The distance between them now was so close that Blake Sinclair only needed to lower his head slightly to kiss her.

The scent of irises mingled with his cedar aroma, as Holly held her breath, cautiously fastening the brooch onto his collar.

As she finally fixed the brooch, Holly was about to pull back when she felt a tightness around her waist.

Blake Sinclair extended his long arm, wrapping her in his embrace with a gentle, yet restraining grasp.

He lowered his head, resting his chin on her forehead, "It looks great, I really like it."

He liked the flowers she gave, liked the brooch, and most of all, he liked her.

Quickly, before Holly realized it, she was secured tightly in his arms.

The grip around her waist was firm; as she instinctively wriggled, finding no escape, she simply abandoned the thought of leaving and relaxed, softly leaning against his chest.

In her ears was the sound of his heartbeat.

Growing louder.

Gradually synchronizing with her own heartbeat.

Holly didn’t know what to do now, as she listened to the beating beside her ear, she hesitated before mimicking him, slowly extending her hand, gently embracing his waist.

The sunset streamed through the windows, casting a golden glow, elongating their silhouettes on the floor until they were indistinguishable from one another.

...

Dinner was made by Blake Sinclair.

Holly hadn’t expected him to cook, let alone be so skillful at it.

Originally, she thought that after cooking porridge for seven years, she could help, but seeing his skillful expertise convinced her otherwise, quietly retreating.

Such a master chef was beyond what she could aspire to match.

Holly glanced at the pots and pans in the kitchen, nearly gathering dust, mentally sympathizing three times.

You suffered for seven years!

Under such a top-notch chef, your good days are coming soon!

Blake Sinclair came out carrying the last bowl of soup, while Holly went to serve two bowls of rice, and the two sat facing each other.

"I didn’t expect you to be such a good cook." Holly switched to compliment mode, her voice incredibly earnest.

Blake Sinclair served her a bowl of soup, "I spent five years in Brelond."

Brelond connection!

No wonder!

Holly tasted the soup he served, the steam blurring her vision, "Brelond, huh...I almost went there too...."

Opposite came Blake Sinclair’s deep voice, with a touch of seriousness, "How about honeymooning in London?"

Holly choked at the mention of the word ’honeymoon.’

Blake Sinclair handed her a napkin, eyes smiling, "What’s wrong? If Mrs. Sinclair wants to go now, I can arrange a helicopter, and we can leave tonight."

"No, no, no!" Holly quickly shook her head, her cheeks flushing, "Too, too rushed, let’s talk about it later."

Seeing her flustered state, Blake Sinclair’s smile deepened, no longer teasing her, "Alright, whatever you say."

After dinner, Blake Sinclair went to the study to attend a conference call.

Holly first took a bath, patting her face in the mirror.

Stay calm! It’s just sharing the same bed, nothing to be nervous about!

But as she lay down, her fingers flew over the screen as she typed.

Celia Stiles’ messages popped up one after another, her words fierce and unrestrained, the kind of content that would get you in trouble if seen by internet police.

[Senior, just do it! Not doing it on the wedding night is a waste!]

[That’s Blake Sinclair! Scoring him is a jackpot!]

[Sending you a guide, senior, you’ll need it.]

In the next second, a link was sent, "The Essential Eighteen Moves for the Wedding Night."

Holly blinked, but her hand seemed to move on its own, clicking the link.

After glancing at two comments, reading phrases like ’dim lighting,’ ’gradual progression,’ ’first stage of caressing,’ she quickly turned off the screen as if scalded.

Where had the obedient and innocent young Celia Stiles gone? Where did she find this stuff?

Holly pressed the back of her hand to her face, trying to cool down and calm down this way.

Just then, the sound of water stopped in the bathroom.

Holly hurriedly wrapped herself in the blanket, pretending to be browsing her phone casually against the headboard, but as soon as the screen turned on, it was still on that unresolved link page.

The bathroom door opened, and Blake Sinclair came out, wrapped in a mist of water. He had changed out of his usual suit, wearing only a loose short-sleeve home shirt and matching pants below.

The mist around him gradually cleared, his face becoming more distinct, and those amber eyes glistening with moisture.

For a second, as they locked eyes, Holly quickly lowered her head, but what came into view was again the link on the screen.

She nervously poked at the screen, trying to exit, but as fate would have it, the page was stuck, not moving.

Stuck between a rock and a hard place.

She had been set up.

"What are you looking at?" Blake Sinclair lifted the corner of the blanket to lie down, and the mattress sank slightly.