One knee on the bed, Wesley carefully laid Blair down and tucked her into bed, covering her with the beautiful patchwork quilt. When he was about to draw his arms back, she suddenly opened her eyes a little.

Wesley froze, wondering if he woke her.

Blair closed her eyes again, but then she wrapped her arms around his waist and mumbled, "Wesley? You visited me in my dreams."

She buried her face in his chest, yawned and continued mumbling, "Wesley, I missed you so much!"

He lifted his hand to caress her smooth cheek, and planted a kiss on her forehead.

Fascinated by her murmuring lips, full and colorful, he couldn't help but lower his head to kiss them.

The next morning, when Blair woke up, she remembered her dream. Wesley hugged her and kissed her. But the passionate kiss felt so real that she could even feel her lips hurting and her breath ragged at that moment.

historical

And she dreamed of Wesley running his rough hands all over her body.

As she remembered what happened in her dream, Blair buried her face in the pillow, scratching her messy hair in shame. 'Oh, my God! I can't believe I had such a sexy dream. That's not like me!' she thought, shocked.

But at least, she felt lucky no one had the supernatural power to see her dream. No one knew her little secret.

She then sat up. Her eyes went wide and she jumped out of bed, rushing towards the bathroom. She felt a large amount of menses gushing out.

However fast she ran, it was too late. Her pants were red; some even dripped on the floor.

She grabbed a rag, got it wet and went to town on the carpet. She kept herself busy cleaning and totally forgot about her dream. She didn't even have the time to think about how she got from the sofa to the bed. Someone had moved her, but she didn't stop to wonder about that.

When she walked to the living room, she was surprised to find there was no food on the table. She remembered she had put the barbecued dish on the table. But where was the food? No skewers or bits of food in the bin, either. So where did it go?

'Did Wesley really come back last night? Did he eat the rest of the food?' she wondered.

But still, she didn't stop to ask herself a very vital question. Who moved her from the sofa to the bed?

Blair turned to look at Wesley's bedroom. The door was open.

She walked over to his room and peeked inside. He wasn't there. His room wa

ogether. Blair decided that discretion was the better part of valor. She wasn't going to get involved in this lover's spat, so she turned Debbie down.

After Debbie was rather forcibly removed from the club by Carlos, Blair also left the nightclub with Wesley.

Shortly after they left, Wesley's phone rang. Blair caught a glimpse of the screen and saw that the caller ID said Megan.

Blair sneered. Megan couldn't bug Carlos tonight, so she decided to bother Wesley instead.

Wesley picked up the car phone. "Uncle Wesley... I'm sad. Boo...hoo..."

Megan's crying echoed inside the car. When Wesley said nothing, the girl continued, "Do you and Uncle Carlos hate me now, Uncle Wesley?"

"No," Wesley replied simply.

"I know Debbie Nian has always held a grudge against me. Uncle Carlos doesn't care about me now... Uncle Wesley, if you hate me, please tell me straight up..."

A hint of impatience flashed in Wesley's eyes. But he tried to comfort her, "You're sick. Don't cry. It'll make it worse."

"I know..." Megan's sobs continued to come from the other end of the phone.

Blair felt so annoyed to hear Megan going on like this. Her good mood was dampened. Although the line was still connected, she looked at Wesley, expressionless, and demanded coldly, "Wesley, can you stop the car?"

Megan stopped crying in an instant. Wesley shot her a confused glance and asked, "Why?"

'Why? Isn't it obvious?' Irritated by the stupid man, she didn't care that Megan could hear their conversation and said as calmly as she could, "Either hang up the phone now, or let me out."