Chapter 269: Unwinding Augustine
Anne’s hands froze mid-motion, her gaze momentarily distant as a flicker of memory crept into her mind. Her smile faded slightly.
She had done this before, back when she was with Denis.
Back then, whenever Denis returned home exhausted, he would demand a massage, and she had complied without a word. She remembered how he used to praise her, saying her hands worked like magic on his weary body. But those moments were now a distant memory.
Anne blinked, brushing the thought away before it could poison the present. She couldn’t tell Augustine about that part of her past. She didn’t want anything, especially not a ghost like Denis, to taint what she had now.
Summoning a smile, she returned to her rhythm, her fingers pressing into Augustine’s muscles again with renewed focus. "I watched a few tutorials online. And I’ve practiced a lot on myself, mostly. But I guess I’ve always liked making people feel better."
Augustine let out a hum of approval, sinking into her care. He hadn’t realized how much he needed this—her touch, her thoughtfulness, her quiet presence that could disarm even the worst day. And as her fingers continued to work over his sore muscles, he felt something deeper than relief.
A flicker of mischief crossed her eyes. "I know many things you haven’t discovered yet," she said, this time teasingly.
Augustine reached back and caught her hand, his head tilting so he could glance at her over his shoulder. "Then I’d like to discover every one of them. What other secrets are you hiding, Mrs. Bennett?"
Her smile deepened as she leaned in closer, her lips brushing against the shell of his ear. "You’ll find out... eventually," she whispered. "But for now, just enjoy this."
She picked up the bottle of oil again, tipping it carefully so a thin stream flowed onto the smooth plane of his back. The warm liquid trickled down his spine. Augustine shivered at the contact, his jaw tightening.
Anne’s palms followed its trail purposefully, her fingers tracing the lines of his back with tender pressure. Each stroke unraveled the tension within him, but it also lit a fire that stirred deeper.